


Untitled Curse Of The Shattered Sight Story

by Lotornomiko



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Smut, a non con dubious con warning for the situation Ingrids curse puts them in, season four canon divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9459188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotornomiko/pseuds/Lotornomiko
Summary: Season 4 A cannon divergence. During the curse of the Shattered Sight Spell, Hook makes a move to recover his captive heart, only to end up at the tender mercy of a certain princess. Dub Con/non con warnings for chapter one and two because of the situation Ingrid's curse forces on them...Captain Beauty End game as always! Add Will Scarlet & a baby into the mix, & things are sure to get even more complicated...CHAPTER EIGHT HAS BEEN COMPLETELY REWRITTEN!





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Standard Disclaimer Time: I do not own Once Upon A Time or the characters from that show. I make no money off Once Upon A time or this story. It is done purely for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet.  
> \----Michelle

It begins with a sound, with a slight inhale of breath that is followed up by a moan. That sound rattles inside him, harsher yet, and louder, the echoes of that moan reverberating through him. He can barely think, can barely concentrate to tell the two sounds apart, the sharp ache in his head nearly no match for the throbbing sensation that curls pleasure through him. The man known as Captain Hook, lets out a shuddery breath, a slight sigh of sound, and with each pull of that sensation, he seems to drift further away. Lost to a haze, where pleasure and pain compete, there’s the hiss of sound that follows, with the teasing scrape of teeth. He can’t help it, he can’t stop, Hook shifting restlessly at the sound of a woman’s muffled moan.

Faintly, faintly he recognizes that sound, and the immense pleasure being voiced. Sensation follows, something beyond the pleasure pained existence that he finds himself in, a warmth surrounding him, burning him, setting Hook afire with it’s insatiable fever. He wants to lose himself to it, to the fever and the sweet suction that pulls on him more and more. He groans, and this time there is no pain in that sound, the pleasure that he is feeling winning, curling through him, sending sweet tendrils of bliss that make him shiver and shake, thrash about in a euphoric kind of ecstasy.

It’s a feeling he has gone too long without, a writhing bliss he has waited some three hundred years for. He moans, and it comes from his chest, a deep growl of the purest pleasure voiced, Hook writhing in place, shifting about enough that soft hands take firm hold of his hips, actually push them down in an attempt to hold him still. He fights this, fights her, wanting, NEEDING to move. He needs to seize and he needs to control, and with another moan of his own, Hook attempts to jerk forward. The rope stop him, in more ways than one, Hook feeling a frustration go through him as well as a confusion, the man wondering just when he had let himself be tied.

The sweet pulling feel of the woman’s lips, nearly casts him under again. Hook moans and he writhes, actually hears the woman’s soft grunt of frustration, her hands struggling with the grip that she tries to maintain. The sound is familiar and yet not, Hook trying to place it. Trying to place her, the man shifting, his eyes starting to open. The soft light of the room, it hurts him, makes him squeeze shut his eyes for a few seconds more. Moist lips touch down to the base of him, the soft silken strands of her hair spreading out across him like a cape. He cautiously blinks open his eyes, the light no less forgiving this time, as Hook finally looks around.

It doesn't register as familiar, but then he’s not trying very hard to remember. He’s too lost to the woman, to the feel of her mouth suckling sweetly, to the intense sensation that is slowly rendering him mad. Hook moans, and he groans, and again tries to jerk his arms forward. He can't tell if there is any real give to the rope, can't even understand why he is restrained in the first place. Her mouth steals all real thought from his brain, Hook arching in a pleasured bliss, a silly yet satisfied smile curving at the corner of his lips, and he’s losing himself to a dream.

When next he awakens, it’s to the whispered sound of clothing rustling. Something light hits the floor, Hook opening his eyes in time to see a woman bend over. Her fingers nimbly hook over the band of her panties, the woman doing a little wiggle, as she shimmies out of them. Hook can't keep from moaning his appreciation, staring in rapt attention at the shapely bottom presented before him. He again jerks on his restraints, wanting to touch, to pull her to him, to kiss on and bite, needing to mark her as his.

So enamored is he with the sight of her, he’s all but blind to everything but her curves. Certainly he doesn't bother to take true note of the long hair whose curling strands graze a kiss on the flesh he is so busy admiring. The rich, chestnut color of her hair, the bounce and sway to it’s style, he truly notes none of this. Hook’s simply too caught up in his lusts, in his wants and his needs. He strains forward, tests the limits of the rope’s resistance, and then curses out loud.

“Bloody hell!” It should have been a snarl, but it’s nothing more than a sexual moan. He jerks and he pulls, his fingers curling with the need to grip hold of the woman. His body aches with sexual need, Hook desiring her, wanting to know every inch of her beyond that sweet mouth that had so loving suckled ecstasy through him. 

The woman makes a sound then, a tsk in response to his words. She turns toward him then, actually tries to correct, to curb his cursing, the sweetest of smiles being offered his way. He goes cold at the sight of it, at the sight of her, the lust warring with his shock, Hook staring and it’s not her perfect curves that he is taking in. It’s the sweetheart face, the bright blue of her eyes. Now he has taken note of the chestnut brown color of her hair, that luxurious mane sending tendrils curling to kiss and frame her beautiful face. He stares at her, and the breath leaves him in a shocked, shuttered sound, Hook muttering a name, then repeating it, almost yelling it then in disbelief.

“BELLE!?”

The beast’s beauty stands before him, with not a stitch of clothing to be found. She’s sheer physical perfection before him, and yet all Hook can do is stare at Belle’s face in shock and dismay. She’s not at all bothered by his reaction, or by her naked state. She smiles again, and there is something off with that expression of hers, but then it’s not like she’s ever truly had any warmth to share with him. This smile though, is something Hook had never expected to see, all cold, calculation and sexual gleam. And it seems to be all focused on HIM.

“Belle!” He says, and still doesn't understand. He again jerks on the restraints, shakes his head as though that can somehow free him from his confusion. She’s suddenly kneeling over him, her fingers pressing against his lips. He still tries to speak, to ask what is going on, but he can feel her, her legs spread enough in her straddle so that Hook feels the heat of Belle’s sex brushing so close to his own. He groans then, and is tempted, SO tempted, wanting to close the distance and just take her, the consequences be damned.

That smile again, the woman looking downright predatory. He stares at her in helpless, rapt fascination, feeling as she does a purposeful grind a top him. A low voiced moan escapes her, and there’s the excited rasp of Belle’s breath. He feels the soft textured flesh of her most private area, the soaked folds of her sex all but gushing her fluid onto him. He moans too, and tries to remember, tries to think why this is wrong.

“Belle…”

“Shhh...” She soothes him, brushing both of her hands’ fingers through his hair. The soft light in the room seems to flicker, as though it will go out, and somewhere in the distance, a sound intrudes on this scene. Something like glass breaking, and a scream. Hook tries to remember, tries to understand why such sounds are important, but the vibrant, sexual creature atop him, is stealing all rhyme, all reason from his thoughts.

More screams follow, a mad kind of shouting and chaos. Hook frowns, but can't tear his eyes away from the beauty before him.

“Why are you doing this?” He finally thinks to ask.

“Because...” She breathes it out softly, leaning in to nuzzle her lips along his bearded jaw line. He can't help but moan at that, both of them shifting, just a little closer to joining together, when her words make him freeze. “Because this will hurt HIM the most.”

Hook tries to shake free of the lips nuzzling affection on him, his gaze casting about the room. He recognizes it then, realizes just where he is. The pawn shop, the crocodile’s domain, treasure untold spread out about them, with the monster’s greatest atop him. But Belle wasn't why Hook had come here, that much he can remember, can cling to, even as one of her hands leaves his hair, to caress finger tips over him.

“We...you shouldn't do this...” Hook manages to protest, feeling another shiver go through him. But he is tempted, God is he tempted!

This time she kisses him, her lips a potent sweetness Hook could get drunk off of. He knows he shouldn't, and yet he still kisses her back, both of them moaning, groaning, and Hook again jerks against his restraints. Is it his imagination that the rope give way just a little? He shifts, tries to position the sharp edge of his hook to dig into the weakest link of the rope.

More screams from outside the shop, and they are not all ones born of terror. It’s a maelstrom of anger and volatile emotions out there, People fighting, getting physical, maybe even killing. Hook tries to remember why, tries to think as to what could the cause of this be. His head doesn't seem to hold the answer, as though it has been literally knocked free of him.

“I'm glad you came.” She whispers in his ear. Her breasts press against his flesh, her stiff little nipples pebbled peaks that rub against his. Belle’s breath hitches in her excitement, she practically purrs in his ear, pearl teeth delicately biting down. Hook shivers and shakes, and again wishes he could touch her, hold her, even as he knows it’s all wrong. He continue to work at the rope, his struggling motions doing nothing save to tear a throaty giggle from the beauty.

“Belle...love..” He starts to protest, still struggling to get free. “This is not...” And then it happens, a shift of his body, a shift of hers, and he is inside her, the pirate’s eyes nearly rolling back in his head. She is so wet and so warm, her body a snug, perfect fit, and it’s been so long, so many years, decades, centuries since last he had felt this kind of pleasure.

“Bloody hell.” He gasps, and this time Hook is the one to kiss Belle. She blooms under his lips’ assault, Belle moaning, teasing her tongue against his. Her body sinks more fully on his, her knees pressed against the floor. He breaks the kiss long enough to look at her face, see how she’s frozen in that exquisite feeling of bliss. “Beautiful.” He manages, then kisses her again, and the rope gives just a little bit more.

Belle kisses like she is drowning, like she is desperate for it. And maybe she is, the woman grinding in place, doing a soft sound of pure needful keening that has Hook throbbing and twitching in reaction inside her. His own mouth is wild in it’s responding demand, Hook taking possession of her, kissing and licking, melding their lips together with his kiss’ caress.

Again and again Belle makes those needy sounds, and again and again Hook rises to answer. The rope starts to snap, Hook knowing that it is wrong, but he’s completely unable and not wanting to stop. Not in the slightest, the pirate surging forward. Belle makes a startled sound, finds herself flat on her back. The pirate captain gives her the most rakish of smiles, his own eyes blazing with lust. He’s beyond right and wrong at this point, touching on her almost greedily. A trace of her lips, a handful of her breast, a touch down on her clit. And then he is moving, working his hips with a fevered purpose, pounding into her with a madness that has a hold of them both. Belle cries out, clinging to him with her arms, with her body, with her legs wrapped tight around him.

There’s barely an inch of space between them, their hot sweaty bodies rubbing together. Each time that Hook tries to pull away, Belle is there, her legs wrapped around him, holding him in place. The moan is low in her throat, her head falling back as Hook mouths at the tender flesh of her neck. His teeth scrape against her pulse, actually work a mark of ownership into her skin. She coos in response, arches her back as a wave of pleasure hits. Hook feels it roll through her, feels the way her own body grips firm hold of him, the ripples of pleasure repeating, squeezing out the pirate’s own bliss. His cock does a violent lurch inside her, his come then shoots out in release. He pours every bit of it inside her, and she lets him, actively demands it. Belle is kissing all over his face, her legs and arms still locked around him, for every second of Hook’s orgasm. The man swears that he can sees stars, dazed by it, and by her.

Another ripple of pleasure goes through her, Hook realizing Belle is coming again. He stares down at her in amazement, feels what little come is left inside him urged out by the woman’s rhythmic, orgasmic squeezing. Belle makes a sound, the most pleasured of moans, and even satisfied as he is, Hook can barely get enough of her.

The lights flicker again, and somewhere in the distance an explosion is heard. There's the crackle of real flames, the angry orange glow of a fire that consumes. Hook still can't think past his own sexual daze to wonder at what is going on, what is happening and why. And with the exquisite woman writhing beneath him, he’s not wanting to try very hard.

 

To Be Continued…


	2. Two

The long night ends with a moan, that sweet thorough sound that of a woman lost to the ultimate of bliss. She hears that sound from a distance, can barely recognize it as that of her own. Or the harsh breaths that follow, Belle panting, gasping in an attempt to gain enough air. There’s a man’s chuckle that reverberates through her, a husky voiced approval that both sounds familiar and yet it is not. 

That woman’s moan sounds out again, bringing with it an echoing sensation that sends pleasure coursing through Belle’s veins. Her lips part on a sigh, and the man’s mouth catches at that offering. She feels firm lips, feels their wicked intent, Belle own mouth just as eager. The response she receives is like nothing that the beauty is used to, the harsh almost desperate need all consuming, devouring Belle from the lips on down.

She moans, and slips fingers into slightly damp hair. Her fingers run and caress through those silk soft locks, her own mouth conveying an urgent plea. There’s a fire inside her, a needy, burning ache. Belle’s hips move of their own volition, the woman rocking in place as best she can, whimpering and a grinding in place atop the man whose body hers is sprawled out on. There’s the source of her torment identified, the hard pulsating vitality buried inside her, Belle’s body locked in place a top a woman’s rightful place. She kisses harder for the cock rooted inside her, Belle desperate and panting, wriggling and grinding in place. Trying to tempt, to seduce, to force her lover to respond, to make him move in the rhythm she so wants, she so needs and demands.

It works. With a fierce groan that is all his own, the man moves. There’s a thrust of his hips, an upwards push inside her, Belle moaning again. That sound of hers is louder yet, her lips free of the kiss. Her nails dig into soft hair, scrape gentle warning into his scalp. She hauls him back to sup from his lips, Belle’s low keening sounds swallowed up and muffled by his tongue. She continues her body’s writhing motion a top him, well aware of how it is driving him wild. His own thrusts are proof of that, the way his rhythm falters for one brief second, before he finds his stride, pounding upwards in a slow sensual assault.

A soft, pleasured coo of sound from her offsets the fitful whine of desperation that soon follows. She’s moaning, crying out in wordless wonder, her lover’s lips pressed firmly against her skin. He kisses on her face, traces the line of her jaw with his lips. Belle feels the coarse roughness of his morning’s beard, actively leans into the touch, the sweetest of smiles curving on her lips. She can think of worst ways to awaken on a lazy morning than this.

The kisses continue, HE continues, his lips and his teeth grazing her skin. A bite then nips at the pulse in her throat, Belle jerking in surprise. A laugh sounds and strong arms follow, pinning her all the more thoroughly in place, as lean muscled hips effortlessly grind them together. Belle makes a soft sound of wonder, a soothed sigh of contentment, wriggling in response, and feeling the gentle wave that breaks over her as she starts to climax atop him.

The kisses come more fervently, Belle’s lips being claimed. She rocks in place against him, actively whines her pleasure against his lips. A rough hand cups her bottom, tries to still the worst of her movement, as her lover holds her in place for his own demanding pace. It makes her shiver, and it makes Belle shake, another climax building, the sweet feel of it erupting almost lazily inside her as she starts to open her eyes.

Dawn’s day is upon them, the faintest of the sun’s light casting the room in soft shadows. Her eyes blink in easy adjustment, Belle taking in the puzzling sight around her, of the back room of her husband’s shop. She’s not sure what has happened, not sure why she is on the floor with him, rather than back in their home, in their bed. He’s never been the type, never been so wild and out of control, Rumplestiltskin the kind of calculating, attentive lover who has always put comfort above a spur of the moment passion. The eager man beneath her, the cold, uncomfortable floor at his back, it’s all something her Rumple would be ill at ease to tolerate, let alone accept.

The wrongness starts to truly hit her then, and without a conscious decision, the woman’s hips stop their wriggling movements. A curse sounds in response, a voice that is most decidedly NOT her husband rolling through her. Belle goes cold at hearing it, certain the color bleaches out of her skin. A powerful arm stays wrapped around her, while a hand grips her bottom and holds her in place for his thrusting. For one second Belle is frozen in place, shock and horror warring, the woman closing her eyes in an attempt to block out the truth. But there is no blocking out him, not the lips that are kissing her, not the beard hairs that are abrading her skin. And certainly not the rock hard proof of his intrusion inside her, the man, the pirate, relentless in his ardent pursuit of his pleasure.

Belle chokes on a scream, starts actively trying to get free. She doesn't know what the pirate makes of her sudden, wild struggle, but now both arms are locked around her. She tries to push her way free with her hands, cries out in protest at the continuing violation. He doesn't seem to notice, doesn't seem to care, his face pressed to the crook of her shoulder, the man sucking and biting at the skin there. Belle feels the first well of angry tears, the woman again pushing at his chest, the frustration blooming inside her at the beauty’s inability to escape. Her nails curl over skin too late, he screams out not in pain, but in the tormented fashion of a man achieving his release. Belle cries out too, but it’s all born of a horror, the woman feeling him shoot inside her the hot sticky warmth of his seed.

They are both panting now, though their reasons for this are both very different. She’s got her eyes closed to block out the sight of his self satisfied grin, Belle fighting her tears. His mouth pressing lightly against hers in gratitude, tears a repulsed sound from Belle’s throat. She suddenly goes wild, fighting, grabbing rough hold of his hair, and pulling some free. A slap follows that touch on his hair, Belle furious, glaring down at the now stunned looking pirate.

“Let go of me.” She says, her tone all venom and fury. “Let go of me, right now, pirate!”

He stares up at her, a mask coming over his face. He’s putting a wall up, guarding his feelings from her. She nearly laughs then, Belle remembering his rotten heart and how he has no room inside it for anything but hate and vengeance.

“Let me go...” She repeats, and now her tone is broken. He has defeated her at last, has succeeded in making a mockery of her love. A tear start to fall, and then another, the hot proof of her sadness hitting him on the cheek. She wonders if the pirate even HAS a heart, so unaffected is he by her tears.

Painstakingly slow, he starts to release his arms from around her. Belle all but bolts from atop him, the first second that she can, the woman crying out, taking a shaky step forward, then falling to her knees besides him.

“Oh God...” She moans in a panic. Belle doesn't understand, doesn't know how or why this has happened, or how for even one second she could have enjoyed it. The pirate, Hook, stays besides her, just laying on the floor, staring up at the shop’s ceiling. 

“What do you remember?” He finally asks.

Belle hears the question, but she can't quite comprehend an answer. She’s too busy kneeling there, staring down at her bare body, and feeling the wildly unpleasant feel of his come inside her.

“Oh God.” She says again. Her fingers are panicked, Belle reaching down in an attempt to scrape out the remains of Hook’s semen. His fingers lock around her wrist, Belle biting back a near hysterical scream.

“Don't bother.” Hook advises. “It’s not the first time that I've come inside you...”

The room seems to spin, Belle dizzy with an onset of disbelief. “How could you?!” She cries out, even as his words echo in her head. Not the first time...not the first time! She wonders how many times there has been, how many times she has forgotten and been violated by him.

“Didn't seem to have much choice.” Is his answer to a question she has already forgotten asking. The room is spinning harder, her only tethering remain to consciousness that of the pirate’s own grip on her wrist. She reels in place, actually sways like she is going to fall the rest of the way to the floor.

“Not much choice...” She finally, dully repeats. “I thought you loved Emma. I thought you had moved on from your vengeance!”

He’s quiet for too long, Belle finally glancing his way. He’s staring thoughtfully at nothing, his mind’s workings a mystery that she doesn't even want to try to fathom.

“That’s the funny thing about a vengeance as old as ours.” Hook finally says. “One can never fully move on...”

“Maybe not you.” She says in a bitter, broken tone. “But Rumple has. He’s CHANGED.”

“Has he now….?” Her face crumples at that mocking tone of Hook’s, Belle trying to jerk free. She nearly falls over when the pirate abruptly lets go, then gives him her best glare through a sheen of tears.  
He seems completely immune to her tears and to the glare, Hook starting to stand to rise to his feet. Belle quickly turns away, mindful of his naked state. She’s mindful of her own as well, and of how well used her body now feels.

A thin sheet suddenly covers her. She grabs at and clutches hold of it, surprise on her face, even as Belle makes sure to not look at the pirate. 

“You wouldn't happen to remember where my clothes are now, would you?” He asks.

She frowns. “Where your clothes are?! Why would I ever know the answer to such a thing!” Her face isn't the only thing burning at his answer, Hook calmly announcing it was because Belle was the one to have undressed him in the first place.

“I would NEVER!”

“Never is a word you should not be using.” He told her. She could hear him walking around, exploring the back of the shop in an attempt to find his clothing. “Especially when you were the one who started all this.”

“I started all this?!” She started to lurch to her feet with a gasp. A slight sound of discomfort escaped her, Belle wincing as she realized whatever had gone on the past night, has tested the limits of her own body’s endurance. “You arrogant, pompous...” Belle shook her head no then. “HOW is this MY fault?!”

“You're the one who struck me.” Hook revealed. “When all I wanted...” He had trailed off, and not even at her urgings, could Belle get the pirate to reveal what he had really wanted. “Ah well...I suppose you're not completely to blame.”

“How charitable of you.” She said in a dry, withering tone.

“I mean, I was the one who came here in the first place. Though the Snow Queen’s curse was driving my actions...was driving us both. I never dreamed you'd actually attack me, let alone do any of what would follow.”

“The Snow Queen’s curse...” Wide eyed, Belle started to turn around to face him. She caught an uninterrupted view of his muscled physique, and a sensory memory hit her. Of HER hands on him, Belle admiring his body, reverently caressing every bit of skin that she had lain bare. “Oh God!”

 

“Belle? Love?” He had looked up from his quest to find his clothing, Belle staggering back, her hip hitting the cold counter of a display case. She couldn’t stop staring at him, her mouth quivering with uncertainty, Belle starting to remember and fervently wishing that she had not.

“Oh god!” She cried out again and again, the memories taking firm grip of her. Like an out of body experience, Belle saw her hands clutching at the heavy blunt object, the woman laying in wait for the person who was rattling the shop’s front door. She had thought it her husband, and had struck out with all her might the second the door was opened. Hook was lucky he hadn't been bludgeon to death in the process, Belle holding her arm up, ready to bring it down again when the realization hit her, that this leather clad vision was NOT her husband dear.

An assortment of feelings had hit her then, Belle furious at being thwarted. She had HATED Rumplestiltskin then, had wanted him dead with all her heart. She had wanted more than that, she had wanted him to SUFFER first, and a smile had come over her, a cold calculating look that was decidedly not one normal to Belle’s face as the beauty had gazed down at the pirate. In that moment, she hadn’t just seen Hook, Belle had seen the key to her triumph over Rumplestiltskin. Her smile then had been positively wicked, the woman dragging the man the rest of the way into the shop.

In the back room she had found it, a thick length of rope, that she had wound about the pirate’s wrists and arms, in an attempt to secure him. Only then when she was certain that Hook would not be escaping, had Belle truly looked at him. And in the moment, her breath had been taken away, the woman realizing just how handsome the pirate truly was. Belle had smiled then, the expression all wicked delight borne of the realization of just how much she was going to enjoy this.

Again she cried out, Belle realizing the curse of the Snow Queen had done more than just twist Belle’s love into hate. It had brought out the worst in her, made Belle a woman who would and had done anything in the name of revenge, in the pursuit of dealing Rumplestiltskin a hurt that would last. The room spun around again and again, Belle reeling in place. Images assaulted her, that of her hands stripping a bound Hook of his clothing, the woman purring in sweet satisfaction at every hard inch of him revealed. She hadn't been able to keep her hands off of him, hadn't been able to stop tracing the lines of his body with her tongue. Worst of all, she hadn't wanted to try, Belle greedy for him, for the pleasure she knew she could take from his body. And take she had, again and again, riling him up, making him want her in turn, until their desire mixed, and their pleasure had known no restraint. Belle had repeatedly taken Hook inside her, had purred and cooed contentment, had achieved climax multiple times. She had been wild and reckless, actually insatiable, Belle loving on the pirate in a way she had never done with her own husband.

She was sick, both physically and in her heart. Belle leaned against the cold counter, clutched at the sheet that Hook had given her, while the hate that the curse had made her feel, echoed in her head. All the accusations and insecurities, all the fears and weaknesses she has had, the spell had prey on them all, twisted them, twisted her, until she was not but an evil reflection of herself. It was a million times worse than she had been prepared for, the taste of her worst self that the Snow Queen’s mirror had once given her, nothing compared to the Belle that she had been last night.

She shook and Belle trembled, the woman wondering how much worst the mirror would have made the pirate. It made her shiver with fear, Belle remembering how consumed by vengeance he had once been, and might still be. How much worst would things have been if the pirate had loved her? How much worst would Belle have been hurt in the process?! 

“This can never….this can never be spoken of again.” Belle said, and wished she sounded half as strong and as determined as those words of her were trying to be. But her voice was weak, almost timid, Belle still so frightened. Hook looked her way, arched a mocking brow at her, and Belle wondered if he realized how much HE had to lose. 

“It will break Rumple’s heart....” 

“I've not a problem with that.” Hook interrupted her with a cruel smirk.

“And it will break EMMA’S as well.” Belle quickly pointed out. She was clutching at the sheet, trying to be brave, to be strong, staring back at the naked pirate with an almost defiant air to her. “She is why you came here, isn't she?” Belle asked. “Because the Snow Queen’s curse was driving you to hurt the one that you love…?”

“Aye, that was the purpose of the curse.” Hook agreed.

“And it’s not like you would have stood much chance against Emma’s magic….” Belle was trying to reason it all out in her head. “You wouldn't have been able to lay your hand on her to hurt her physically. So you decided on the next best course of action….” She let out a deep breath. “And that led you to ME.”

She was aware of his stare, how he looked so unfeeling about what had happened. She still clutched at the sheet, one hand letting go long enough to run fingers through the tangled mess of her curls. “You LOVE Emma.” Belle stated it as though it was fact, as though it was something she desperately needed to be true. But was that love of his stronger than his hate of Rumplestiltskin? She just didn't know, and that left Belle uncertain, and even downright frightened. “You would never want to break her heart...”

“Aye, I wouldn't.” He nodded.

“So please!” Belle bit out in a desperate tone. “Give up your vengeance. Do not tell Rumple what I...what WE have done.”

There was a long drawn out pause, the pirate just staring at Belle with an unfathomable gaze. And the he was slowly nodding an agreement to her plea.

“All right love, you have yourself a deal.”

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooo! Another one finished. Had a bit of trouble with getting this one started. My original draft was a Hook POV and while I liked what I had written, it didn't seem to match the feel and flow of the first chapter. So I decided to tackle it from a Belle POV, and it works for me so much better! Yay! The Hook POV draft was only a little over a page in length...I kinda hope I could use some of it in some other fic, or chapter...or at least some of the dialogue from it. XD
> 
> I spent all of yesterday and a good chunk of today, rewatching the pertinent parts of season four A as research. Good lord, all my notes and attempts to transcribe the dialogue from certain scenes took forever….I have about twenty two pages worth of cannon research written out to help me with this fic. See this fic is cannon divergent, but it will have some of the things from the cannon storyline in it. Right now I got to figure out how much time, space and effort I want to devote to detailing out cannon scenes. This is all still the early set up of the story, and will included the scene of Belle banishing Rumple across the town line. There will be plenty of consequences from Belle and Hook sleeping together during the curse. I am fighting so hard not spoil any worse than I have. Ah hell, let’s just say a captain beauty baby is in the works as a result of their night together! XD
> 
> Not sure when I will work on three. Maybe right away, but I also am trying not to let this fic derail me from completing chapter twenty eight of the trade off fic. Oh the plans I have for both these stories! XD
> 
> Trying to think if there was anything else I wanted to say...but I am blanking on it. So laters!
> 
> \---Michelle


	3. Three

He doesn't know how long that it has been snowing but from the heavy way that it is falling, it won't be stopping any time soon. Already there’s a thick film of powder clinging to everything, coating the buildings, the cars, anything and everything that stands still for longer than a few seconds. This unrelenting snowfall washes over Storybrooke, and brings with it a healing magic, purifying not just the heart but that of the soul too. People laugh and they smile, some spinning in place. A dwarf stands out in the middle of main street, his mouth opened wide to catch at the falling flakes with his tongue. It’s a stark contrast to the chaos and violence of the night before, people dropping their weapons, hugging, kissing, apologizing for the wrongs that they had done and the hurts that they had attempted.

There’s more than forgiveness in the air. There’s a total relief, hearts alive with it, and the joy that follows brings a great rousing cheer, the town alight with the knowledge that they had face their worst, and survived it, with the people none too worse for wear. It’s not something easily escaped, the town’s joy infectious, spreading, touching even the coldest of hearts. People dance and they smile, they laugh and give even greater shouts. It’s a town wide celebration, and it’s one that Hooks holds himself apart from. He can feel none of the relief, none of the joy, the feelings lost, wasted on him. Thick flakes colored the purest of white touch down on Hook, nestle in his hair, melt against his skin. The snow’s healing magic tries it best, but is simply unable to touch what ISN'T there.

Nothing can. Nothing should, Hook’s chest’s empty. The very source of his emotions, the well spring of feelings is gone, STOLEN, and the pirate doesn't even have enough in him to hate what has been done to him. It’s more than just the lack of hate that he feels. The maddening despair, the hope and frustrations, there’s a complete lack of that and desire, Hook unable to even want to be saved. When he fights, it’s not borne of any desire to live. The laugh that he gives, the worry that he expresses, it’s all pretend, all vague remembrances of WHAT he should be feeling. 

It’s a tiring act that Hook puts on, an exhausting ordeal. He doesn't even act out of love but out of the memory of it, out of the feelings that had started to bloom, of the trifling few loyalties Hook had started to tentatively forge. They're the vague, fading memories, Hook knowing he had wanted Emma, had wanted a chance at a life with her. But the feelings aren't there, gone, torn whole heartedly from him, and Hook can only go through the motions and make a show of expressing what isn't there. He says the words, smiles and lets his eyes fill with the warmth or whatever else Emma would want to see. Hook puts on the greatest performance of his life, but is a complete shadow of the man that he had once been.

He can't even hate, can't even despise the man that has done this to him, the monster who has so thoroughly taken his heart. Hook KNOWS he should want to kill Rumplestiltskin, but even murderous inclinations are behind him. When Hook says he hates, it’s not with any feeling, but with the memory of the man he had once been. The drifting recollection of what THAT Hook would want to do, and it is in honor of his long lost self, that Hook attempts to fight at all.

He’s frozen, locked in this unfeeling state of just existing. He can't even say it’s that bad, can't even claim to miss the passionate beatings of his heart. But the absolute certainty of this has been sorely tested this night, something stirring within him, a feeling, a desire, a woman bringing to life inside Hook these things. Just a few hours spent with her, spent buried inside her, and lust had stirred. More than just stirred, it had burst free, Hook driven mad by the onslaught of emotions. Lust, passion, desire, the throbbing need that was both his vengeance made real and his greedy need for more. Hook had felt all of these things with Belle, had gone wild with it, crazed and unable to stop, unable to even want to, the man attempting to glut himself on her, on the feelings she had forced inside him.

He doesn't understand it, doesn't know why it had even happen. Hook’s simply too new to missing his heart, less than a week passing, and there’s still so much he’s yet to discover. The complete emptiness inside him hasn't exactly left Hook motivated, the man not trying, not even attempting to discover just what it means to truly be without heart. But now something that very much felt like trouble turned over inside him, Hook taking the time to stop and ask why. His thoughts colored with it, he wonders why, why now, why her, why when doing THAT? He’s got no real answers, and no one he can turn to ask, the memory of the man Hook had once been, instinctively guiding the pirate to keep quiet.

It’s not for any sake of his, any self preservation and desire. It’s simply for her, for Emma, for the woman he had once been capable of having feelings for. He knows the truth of it will hurt her, will make her feel strongly in a negative kind of way. He knows she will be hurt and angry, might even feel betrayed. Hook works to spare her all these feelings, not because he wants to, but because of the distant memory of the man he had once been. That man, that hard feeling pirate, wouldn't have wanted to hurt Emma, would have felt guilt at just the idea. That Hook would have been wallowing in self hate, sick with the knowledge of what he had just done, of just what he had helped ruin.

The Hook that he now was did not feel any of it. Not the guilt, not the frustration, not the anger or even the sadness. He can't even muster enough energy within himself to wonder at why, what the reason could be that Emma’s kiss had failed him, and numerous times at that. Was it because he didn't love her? Was it because she didn't truly love him? Was it that simple, or was it that much more complicated, Hook not understanding why another, why Belle, would succeed where the savior had failed. 

He would have frowned then if anyone had been close enough to him to see. But since there was no one to put on a show of feeling for, he walked expressionless through the busy streets. More and more celebrating around him, and Hook knew what he should be doing. Knew he should be joining them, should be pretending to feel what they so clearly felt. He should have sought out Emma, should have put on a show for her, welcomed her back with open and eager arms. But he’s tired at just the idea of it, exhausted from having to fake the emotions. For one selfish morning, he'll keep away, and maybe by the time he’s ready to face her, Hook will have thought of an excuse why.

It’s not that he is angry with her, that he is disappointed in her. But there’s the tiny whisper of memory, that tells him that that is exactly what Hook would be feeling, if he had at all been capable of it. He can't even sigh, can't muster up even that much emotion. Hook continues his trek to the water front, and the snow has covered even here. It crunches under foot, starts to ice over whole patches of water. It makes the often tranquil harbor less, the water stirred up not just by the snowfall, but by the collapsing wall of ice.

Hook reaches the end of the pier, stands and stares as that ice starts to slowly break apart. Thick pieces of it hit the water, send violent ripples throughout it, and it’s just another sign that the Snow Queen has somehow been defeated. He can't even wonder at the how and whys of Emma and Elsa’s victory over Ingrid, can't even muster up enough curiosity to care. He knows it should matter, knows that is one more thing his lack of heart steals from him.

It should be a helpless feeling that fills him. He should be despairing at his lack of emotions. Hook knows this not because he feels it, but because he thinks he remembers just what his true self would have been expressing in this moment. But in reality there is nothing, just the emptiness inside him, a hollow ache existing where his heart should have been. 

Footsteps crunch on the snow behind him, and the tell tall tap of the man’s cane strikes on the board of the piers. Hook doesn't react, doesn't so much as flinch, neither surprise, nor dread in him, the pirate knowing this has been an inevitable moment. He doesn't even try to muster up a show of defiance, Hook so tired of pretending, even to HIM. That fiend falls into place besides him, and together, man and monster stare out across the rocky waters.

For the longest time neither of them say anything. They just stand there in quiet contemplation of the destruction going on. Even thicker pieces of ice are now falling, and it’s more than a ripple that sends the water surging forward. Even the water is more capable of feeling than he now is, Hook staring down at the violent waves of it arcing across the surface. It might just be the last sight that the pirate sees, and Hook thinks it as good as any for a man that is without feeling.

“Henry got away.” It’s a simple announcement that Hook makes, a quiet admission of failure. The memory of the man he had been would have laughed, would have gloated over his inability to succeed at doing Rumplestiltskin’s bidding. He would have done more than just that, Hook would have been mocking, insolent, downright relishing the look on the crocodile’s face as he brought forth the soul shattering revelations of just what had gone on the night before. 

The memory of that other Hook lets the pirate know that he would have expressed a perverse enjoyment, would have smirked and let the knowledge of it fill his gaze. He would have stared Rumplestiltskin down, would have relished the man’s squirming, his agonized response to every word spoken as Hook detailed every filthy second spent on what the pirate had done with the monster’s wife. He would have laughed, and he would have died, Rumplestiltskin not the kind of monster that would agonize publicly for long. 

“So, you failed at kidnapping a child.” The crocodile’s voice was a quiet admission of anger, though Hook knew it wasn't really the kidnapping that Rumplestiltskin was so bothered about. Hook can remember a similar meeting, taking place on this very pier. Of Rumplestiltskin detailing his own lust for self preservation, the man sinister and without any sorrow expressed as the crocodile had told Hook that if he had to make a choice between saving the town and furthering his own self interests, he'd always walk the latter path.

It was a revelation that few if any would be surprised by. Rumplestiltskin had always been a greedy, grasping selfish coward of a man. The power of the Dark One inside him, had only made Rumplestiltskin worse not better, new shades of hunger and ambition filling him as the crocodile had set his eye on payout far grander than that of saving one simple little town. The monster wanted the world, and he wanted the power to rule it. And Rumplestiltskin was so close to getting it. When the stars aligned, when Hook’s heart was crushed, the spell that would free Rumplestiltskin from the Dark One’s dagger would be enacted. 

The pirate couldn't claim to understand all the details. Couldn't begin to guess how Rumplestiltskin would bring magic to the world outside Storybrooke’s enchanted borders. But he had been willing to condemn a whole town, had in fact place them all at risk, and it was only a miracle that had brought a new day dawning peace.

The memory of the anger that Hook would have once felt, perhaps that was what made him snarl. He was almost glib, almost mocking, telling Rumplestiltskin the reason why he might have failed at procuring hold of young Henry. 

“Perhaps you could say my HEART wasn't in it.”

Rumplestiltskin barely blinked in reaction, so dismissive was he of Hook’s attempt at insolence. “The Snow Queen’s plan has also failed.” He was still watching the rapidly diminishing ice wall. “But mine won't.”

Hook wondered where such confidence came from. “You're a villain.” He said at last. “A monster. And those? Those NEVER win.”

“Oh my, is that hope you are attempting to feel?” Rumplestiltskin smirked at him now. “Are you honestly thinking there will be a last minute rescue from that would be girlfriend of yours?”

“Emma is good at saving people.” Hook reminded him. “It’s what she does….” 

“That she does, dearie.” Rumplestiltskin let out a sinister chuckle. “It would make things...interesting, if the savior were to attempt to become a real problem. But you're forgetting something, an important fact that is a real game breaker.”

“And that is what?”

“That pirates aren't heroes, and you, Hook, are the worst of them all.” Rumplestiltskin’s eyes gleamed with a cold satisfaction. 

“I've changed!” He protested because that is what the Hook of his memory would have done. “I've tried to become a better man...”

“Tried and fail, says I!” His tone was dismissive, Rumplestiltskin listing Hook’s most recent misdeeds. “You've lied, cheated, and manipulated. You tried to kidnap my grandson, actively succeeded in wiping out ALL of the fairies.”

“Not by choice! You MADE me do those things...with your command over my heart….”

“I didn't have command of your heart when you helped me destroy the apprentice.” Rumplestiltskin grinned. “No, you did that all on your own, so desperate to get what you wanted...”

“You manipulated and tricked me.” Hook pointed out.

“It’s no excuse for what you let that make you do.” retorted the crocodile. “Face it pirate, you are as much a villain of this story, as I am. So now the question is, where does that lead us? If villain against villain is pitted against the chance for a happy ending, who would you place the victor as? The all powerful Dark One, or some pathetic pirate who doesn't even have enough left in him to care?!”

It was a malevolent look that Hook flashed him, the man mustering up enough of his memories of the pirate’s hatred to make a good show of it. It doesn't affect Rumplestiltskin one bit, the man tossing back his head with a chuckle.

“Then grant me one dying wish.” Hook wouldn't go so far as to beg him, his tone more demanding than anything, as the memory of the man he had once been, whispered to him of what he would have wanted.

“I am not in the business of making deals with YOU any more.” Rumplestiltskin didn't even appear curious, and he certainly wasn't caring. Hook barreled ahead with his request anyway, as though the words would somehow reach Rumplestiltskin’s rotted heart and force some kind of compassion on the man.

“Leave Emma and the rest of Storybrooke be.” Hook told him. “There’s no need to harm them.”

“That all depends on them, now doesn't it?” Rumplestiltskin asked. “As long as they don't get in my way, then yes...when I am able to leave Storybrooke with my magic intact, then and only then will they have nothing to fear from me.” An evil smile then, a look of pure glee in the crocodile’s eyes. “But I can't be making that same promise for the REST of the world!”

“You've had enough time to enjoy the snow fall, dearie.” Rumplestiltskin said after a pause. “I've one more task for you to complete.”

“And that is?”

“Why to play spy on your savior girlfriend and her friends from Arendelle.” He answered. Rumplestiltskin adjusted his coat, actually took the time to brush off the snow that had been piling a top his shoulders. “I want to know the minute that they are gone.”

“Why?” Hook asked. “Why would you even care?”

“Why would you?” countered Rumplestiltskin with a grin. “Oh that’s right, you CAN'T. You can't feel much of anything now!” A twisted sounding giggle, the monster beyond amused. The memory of his former self rose up in Hook, the pirate knowing this should have spurred him into one last defiance. His mouth open, the words on the tip of his tongue. Hook ready to snarl in the crocodile’s face on how had HAD felt plenty the night before.

~I was with your wife.~ The thought echoed in his head. ~In her arms, I was alive again.~

But he said nothing out loud, the words locking in his throat. Was it HIS self preservation at work? Or was it his desire to honor the deal that he had made with Belle, with the one woman that had been capable of still making him feel? Or was it the hope he was incapable of, the Hook he remembered being, holding out on the chance that Emma herself would somehow find a way to stop Rumplestiltskin in time?

Rumplestiltskin was still laughing, still mocking him with that sound. Hook should have been furious, should have at the very least clenched his jaw in frustration. Instead he just stared at him, trying to remember, trying and failing to make a good show out of pretending to be defiant. 

“Now go.” Rumplestiltskin said once his laughter had finally died down. “You don't have a lot of time left before the stars align.” An evil smirk then. “You don't have a lot of time left at all.”

For one second, for just one second, Hook thought he had remembered something. Something angry and defiant, it’s frustration making his fingers curl into a fist. It was gone faster than he could process, Hook standing there empty, and he didn't have enough in him to even feel the hopelessness of his own situation. His time really was ticking down, every second bringing him closer to what would probably be the pirate’s end. But even the knowledge of his imminent death couldn't faze the pirate, Hook unable to feel the despair OR the relief, this non feeling existence no way to truly live. The memory of his feeling self shouted at him to fight, but that Hook was growing weaker, his voice nothing more than a whispered memory that was being lost to the dull ache of his empty chest. 

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter done. This wasn't too hard to write. I had a false start, a really rambly, sucky page and a half that I wrote last night, that I ended up trashing as not good enough. (And it was! So not good enough!) But this version shares the opening paragraph with that trashed draft. That much I did like, although I had to tweak it some.
> 
> Had some of the cannon scene in here, though the location was different, and the words weren't exactly word for word. Plus I expanded on the scene in a way the show hadn't. :P
> 
> Well..I said it wasn't too hard to write, but it was a little troublesome to get the feel right. Especially for a character that is supposed to be lacking emotions cause of his missing heart. I hope I did it justice in this chapter!
> 
> Laters!
> 
> \------Michelle


	4. Four

They had chosen to gather where it had all truly began, a band of six heroes and one heartless pirate standing on the outskirts of town. Hook stood apart from Emma and her friends, her mother and her son, his unfeeling gaze taking it all in. The snow gathered on the ground, and there was a thin frost freezing on the trees that lined on either side of the road that should have led out of the town. Instead there stood the impenetrable fortress of ice that had been erected as a barrier, a mountainous range of solid rocky white, that stretched out to the east, and to the west, ultimately curving around to encircle nearly all of Storybrooke.

The wall had already shown signs of weakness, parts of it having broken apart. But too much of it remained, the ice too frozen solid to melt on it’s own. Hook wasn't even sure if the ushering in of the warmer seasons would be enough, and spring was still several months off. The winter weather had only made the wall all the more formidable a deterrent, and with every physical blow struck against it, the ice had only strengthened in force.

He studied the ice, took note of the wall and how it had since changed. The dwarves and David had left their mark on it, the ice wall so different from the night when they had first met Elsa. Back then it had been much smaller, much simpler in design. There had been a carved pathway from the road to deeper within that mass of ice, with small spiraling spears of white towering upward together to form a small enclosure of sorts. Inside that enclosure, walking that path of ice, had been the ice queen herself. Elsa of Arendelle, new to this world, and ever so frightened, so out of control. 

Elsa had been looking for her missing sister, Anna. Instead, Elsa was the one who had been found, Emma literally stumbling upon the frightened queen inside the ice wall’s enclosure. That night’s chance meeting, had brought with it fear and desperation, four people touched by it, marked by it, maybe even CHANGED by it. Friendships had been formed, uneasy alliances made, and a reluctant kind of acceptance had been forged between the pirate and the prince.

He can barely remember how it had felt, can barely hold on to the memory of that night. The sight of the ice wall invokes nothing within him, Hook’s chest empty, the man incapable of experiencing things. The anger he might have felt, the relief, and the memory of that night’s panic and despair? He looks at the wall, then looks at the savior, and feels nothing at all. He forces some warmth in his gaze, when she turns his way, when Emma gives him a small acknowledging smile. He wonders if she is remembering that night, remember how she had nearly died, trapped inside that cold prison with all of her warmth leeching out.

Her tremulous smile hints at more than just the memory of Emma’s near death experience. She probably remembers how Hook had been right there, how frantic and desperate he had been to get to her, actively pulling her free of the ice. He had clung to her in an attempt for both reassurance and to generate warmth, and Emma had done the same. 

He holds her gaze now, giving her what he thinks Emma would want. The savior seems to draw comfort from his faked expression, her own eyes warm and full of a reassuring light. That light doesn't touch him, doesn't come close to touching on what isn't there. There’s not even an ache of longing, not even a spark of anger. Hook can't even muster up enough energy to care, the man without hope, simply accepting it as fact. Emma can't see past what is in front of her, not the smile he plays at, not the lies that Hook tells her. She is completely without clue, and his lack of heart keeps even his frustration at bay.

Emma is still looking at Hook, when Elsa’s sister speaks. Her voice breaks the silence the seven had been maintaining, the young woman as impressed as she is in awe of the wall that her sister Elsa had helped create. 

“Wow! That is a LOT of ice!”

The Ice Queen of Arendelle nods her agreement. “And it’s time for it to come down.” She lets go of her sister’s hand, takes several steps forward. Under the watchful eyes of Emma, of her mother and son, and of those from Arendelle, Elsa raises her arms. There’s a glow of magic to her, a strengthening power that surges forward to gather in her hands. It’s a blue and white energy, invoking the memory of water and cold, the two the very elements the ice wall is comprised of.

Elsa dramatically thrusts her arms forward, her hands aimed at the wall. A hush falls over the group, no one daring to speak, not hope, not trepidation, leaving the queen of Arendelle untouched by their expectations. Hook watches her as Elsa’s magic starts to spiral out of her hands. She seems a million times more confidant than he can ever recall seeing. Is it the presence of her sister, Anna at her side? Or is it the shared experience Elsa has had with the savior, their battle against the Snow Queen changing her, fortifying them both? He doesn't know, but the confidence lends a strength to the magical spear drilling into the great mountain of ice. Even before it starts to slowly crack apart, Hook knows that this time the outcome will be different, that this time Elsa will succeed at vanquishing the wall.

 

It takes time. The wall has stood and been fortified for too long, and even without the Snow Queen’s power bolstering and maintaining it, it fights against it’s fate. But more cracks appear, and the ice starts to topple. Anna makes a sound, her fiance Kristoff, grabbing at her to keep the woman from rushing to her sister’s side. The blonde haired queen is confidant, the ice dissipating into a harmless of shower of snow long before it can come close to crashing down on her. She continues to work the ice, her magic literally tearing it apart, and transforming it, and that power rushes through all of Storybrooke, alighting upon the enclosure so that no barrier remains. Not here, not there, not anywhere, the ice wall now gone, another healing wave of snow fall washing over the town.

Elsa steps back, more than satisfied with her work. She turns to glance at Emma, and there is a smile on the Ice Queen’s face. Emma nods her approval, starts to open her mouth, when Anna pulls free of Kristoff.

“Okay!” There’s a joyful bounce to her step, Anna skipping her way past her sister. “Now can we go home?!” She’s almost to the town line when the savior screams out a warning, Anna nearly stumbling forward as Emma rushes toward her.

“Don't take another step!” Emma advises her, actually pulling Anna back. She reaches out with one hand toward the town’s border, her other arm extended behind her to ward off the confused Anna. “That’s the town line...” But she’s not looking at the red paint that has been splattered in a messy line as both a warning and symbol of just where Storybrooke truly ends.

“Right...” Anna seems perplexed, a frustrated breath escaping her. “But I want to LEAVE the town.” She glances at her sister, a kind of apologetic look in her eyes. “Can I just say that…?”

Emma is still staring at the now empty space that had once been taken up by the wall. Her hand is still thrust forward, the savior feeling up the air. Hook has no magical powers of his own, but the man has made a study of such things, has spent centuries chasing after enchantments and spells. It’s led him to have been exposed to more magic than most living sorcerers, Hook having quested in the name of his revenge. And that magical pursuit has left it’s mark on him, Hook able to taste and sense the power in the air. 

“The wall may be down...” Emma starts to say. What follows is a confirmation of what Hook has already known. “But I am sensing that some of Ingrid’s magic remains...” She carefully steps forward, gently touches and presses her hand against what looks like nothing. The air lights up then around it, with a soft magical glow, and everywhere that Emma then tries to touch, the barrier ripples in warning.

“Yeah...” She steps back with a sigh. “Leaving this town has NEVER been simple.” She explains to Anna. “And Ingrid? She didn't change things.” With a worried look in her eyes, Emma turns to look at the two sisters, shaking her head no in apology. “She wanted to be here alone with you AND me. She wanted to make Storybrooke her ice castle, and she clearly wanted to protect it.”

“So what does that mean?” Henry, the savior’s son has spoken up. “What will happen if we try to leave?”

“Best I can tell, there’s no coming back if you step over that line. You'll be locked out of Storybrooke for well forever...” Emma’s explanation causes an unease to travel through the group, and Anna is the most restless of all. 

“So, how do we get back home?” She demands, her hands starting to go to her hips. Anna is tapping a foot in impatience, looking very much like she might be tempted to risk stepping over the town line regardless.

“Walking wouldn't have gotten us there anyway.” Elsa tries to soother her impatient sister. “We're in a different realm...”

“We need to find a portal...” Emma says, but the woman appears lost. “Or a magic bean...”

“Okay, now I am lost...” Kristoff speaks up as though those two things are items not common to the land of Arendelle. And maybe they aren't, for magic and it’s mark has always been different from realm to realm. The fact that Arendelle’s queen has any magic at all, is a truth that once had been surprising to Hook, the pirate having made it his personal mission to track down and study as much magic in as many realms as he could find.

“Well then...Let’s GET one of those things.” Anna was saying, still as impatient as ever. She simply couldn't understand Emma’s concerns, any more than the princess could know just how rare and hard to come by both portals and magic beans truly were. “We HAVE to hurry.”

“No.” Elsa again tried to soothe Anna. “We don't have to hurry.” She smiled at Emma. “We need to be careful...Arendelle will still be there while we figure this out...”

“It might not be...” Anna made a worried face, then gasped a loud, stunned sounding breath. “Did we forget to tell her?” She had turned to look at her fiancee, who was making a similar face.

“A lot of stuff was going on...” He cringed with that admission. 

Elsa took a step forward to capture her sister’s attention. “Tell me what?”

Anna’s expression was interesting, a mix of cringe worthy embarrassment and apology. “Arendelle has been conquered...” Elsa’s eyes widened with her alarm, and her expression of worry only grew worse the more that her sister chose to then reveal. “By Hans and his twelve brothers...”

The name meant nothing to Hook, but clearly it affected Elsa. She turned to look at the savior, and all of her sister’s impatience and worry, had taken root inside the Ice Queen. “Emma...” In a strong, clear tone that belied the feelings stirring inside her, Elsa made her demand known. “We need to find a way back….NOW.”

“We'll do our best.” Came the Savior’s promise. It was par for the course, one crisis averted, a new one springing up in it’s dust. This town was cursed to be a never ending hot bed of excitement, one disaster or menace after another appearing. It left the quiet moments to be valued, those rare times of peace worth more than a pirate’s weight in gold. This one had seemed to last longer than most, but already the excitement and anxiety was stirring, the group gathering around Elsa and Anna, to lend support and offer up suggestions. Not a single one of them would notice Hook off to the side, or the grimace of pain twisting his expression.

Hook felt the sharp sting, his hand going to his chest. His fingers gripped in place over the spot where his heart should have been, Hook wanting to make a sound, wanting to hunch over with the pain that he was feeling. The cruel fingers that lay in crushing grip on his heart wouldn't let him, the monster making sure to command the pirate to act as if nothing was wrong. So absolute was Rumplestiltskin’s control over Hook’s heart, that the pirate could only suffer in rigid silence, staring straight ahead at Emma. He felt nothing but the emptiness and the pain, and yet Hook remembered enough to attempt to put a pleading look in his eyes. Even that was forbidden him, though Hook fought against the command. He stared at Emma, and tried to will her to notice, tried to make her realize the extent of the wrongness about him.

She never did. She just went on talking to her friends and her family, trying to puzzle out a solution to Arendelle’s problems. The man of his memory, would have screamed in frustration then, but Hook as he was now, simply couldn't care. With nary a sound to betray him, without so much as a sigh, Hook took a step back and then another, until he was lost to the woods. No one seemed to notice, and no one bothered to stop him. Maybe they wouldn't even remember that he had been there, Hook so unimportant and Rumplestiltskin’s magic too powerful for even the savior to withstand.

With pain lacing his every step, Hook trudged deeper into the woods. Low hanging tree branches slapped him in the face, and the crushing grip maintained on his heart made him stumble. Hook wondered if Rumplestiltskin would torture him like this for the entire trek back to town, the pain from his captured heart enough to bring a stinging moisture to his eyes. The pain was nearly all he could focus on, the agony of his tortured heart making the pirate forget how to breathe. He panted and he groaned, and staggered to a stop by a tree.

His knees hit the dirt, Hook determined to not take a single step more. Rumplestiltskin could kill him now for all Hook cared, the pirate actually welcoming the idea of it. Anything to stop this feeling, this torture, Hook wanting to go back to that state of non existence, where nothing could touch him. Not pain and certainly not desire. 

A squeeze down on his heart had Hook screaming out in pain. But he didn't rise up, didn't resume making his way back to the town. One more powerful squeeze, so hard that Hook thought his heart would finally be crushed into dust, and then a dark red smoke was enveloping him, the thick choking form of it curling around him like shackles. The arid smell of it made him cough, made his lungs burn in protest. He'd gasp then in relief, Hook abruptly freed of the smoke, but not of the pain throbbing in his chest.

“Now, tell me what I want to know.” Hook startled at the sound of Rumplestiltskin’s voice, so close and so angry. He forced open his eyes, blinked around rapidly to stare up at not just the man, but the shop counter behind him. Rumplestiltskin leaned nonchalantly against it, Hook’s heart held in his hand. Cold eyes colored with a malevolent lack of sympathy gazed down at him.

Hook didn't immediately try to answer. He actually fought against the compulsion, and was rewarded for it by another squeeze of his heart in Rumplestiltskin’s hand. He groaned and cried out, and that tore a self satisfied chuckle from Rumplestiltskin’s throat.

“Tell me NOW.” The monster advised him, fingers still squeezing down.

Hook wearily lifted his head, looked up at him with an attempt to show defiance. But the memory of that was too weak, too swallowed up by the pain that he was feeling. Hook’s every thought was now lost to it, save the knowledge of what the monster wanted. 

“They didn't leave.” The pirate finally gasped out. “The Snow Queen magicked the border. Once you leave, there is NO coming back.”

Rumplestiltskin relaxed his grip on Hook’s heart. Hook collapsed in place on the floor, panting heavily as though his lungs would never be able to get enough air. He was too weak to make an attempt for his heart, too exhausted and too hurt to even try.

“If only the Snow Queen had succeeded.” Rumplestiltskin let out a pitying sigh. “Everything would be much simpler.”

“Yes...perfect cover for your exit.” He was still panting, but now Hook lifted up his head to look the monster in the eye. “But everybody survived. Sorry for the inconvenience.” His attempt at a smirk was pathetic at best, the expression on his face a hollow shadow of what Hook had once been capable of. And still it enraged Rumplestiltskin, the man once again squeezing down on the pirate’s heart.

The pirate screamed out his agony, writhing in place on the floor. His pain was a violent thing now, Hook lashing out and hitting his hand against something, someone, that had Rumplestiltskin snarling. 

“Keep your hand off of my wife!”

Hook felt the magic propel him back, the pirate hitting against a counter. When the stars had stopped spinning before him, when the monster had stopped squeezing his heart, Hook noticed then what he had thus far failed to. Belle, the beauty fast asleep. She lay on her side, her body stretched out on a simple cot. A thin blanket was over her, and her chestnut colored hair was draped over one shoulder in a loose braided fashion.

She showed no sign of waking up, no sign of even having been disturbed. Not by Hook’s hand hitting her, not by the snarl that had followed, not even by the pirate’s agonized screams. It was the blissful ignorance of a magic induced sleep, Belle all but deaf to the outside world. He couldn't stop staring at her, studying her, flashes of memories coming to him. The feel of her body, Belle writhing atop him. Vibrant and sensual, her every touch had brought with it fire. Without even realizing it, Hook had found himself smiling, and then he was screaming out again, pain resonating through him. He hunched over with it, the grip on his heart now furious, Rumplestiltskin having noticed the intent way with which Hook had been looking at Belle.

“Don't even think about it.” Rumplestiltskin told him in a snarled out fashion, fingers still squeezing.

“Think about WHAT?”

“You'd never get close enough to her, to do any harm.” Rumplestiltskin gave another squeeze of his heart. “Even without this, I'd see to that!”

He was in too much pain, to hurt to do much of anything. Let alone make a show at gloating. He just bowed his head as though in defeat, then looked up as Rumplestiltskin continued his interrogation.

“What about our friends from Arendelle?”

“They're still searching for a portal back.” Hook grunted out in answer.

“Well then, that IS a problem.” Rumplestiltskin admitted with a sigh. “Can't have that Anna running around town.”

“Anna?” Hook hazarded a guess. “She knows, doesn't she? Anna knows what you are doing...Trying to cleave yourself of the dagger so that you can leave with your power intact.” He risked another glance towards the slumbering beauty, and was rewarded with more crushing abuse heaped on his heart. 

“Belle confessed about knowing Anna….” Though the monster said nothing to it in response, his fingers eased on their squeezing grip. “Why else would you care?” Questioned Hook. “Unless there’s a danger to you...You can't have your blissfully ignorant wife...”

“Lose neither her ignorance nor her bliss.” finished Rumplestiltskin. He had looked away from the pirate, his soft admiring gaze all for the beauty asleep on the cot. But Hook didn't buy him as distracted for a second. The pirate knew, KNEW, if he were to make a lunge for his heart, the monster would be back to squeezing down on it.

“Wait for me outside.” Rumplestiltskin finally broke his silence. “Make sure no one, least of all Anna, comes near this shop.”

“Like I have a choice.”

“You don't.” Rumplestiltskin turned back to him with a smirk. “Congratulations Captain. Your usefulness was unexpectedly extended. But never forget….tonight, when the stars in the sky align with the stars in the sorcerer’s hat, I will finally do what I should have done all those years ago.”

He stepped towards Hook, let the tips of his expensive shoes hit against the pirate’s knees. Rumplestiltskin still clutched at his heart, but was completely at ease, bending to grin a wickedly cruel smile of evil satisfaction.

“I will crush your heart.”

Hook stared up at him, and felt nothing at the threat. Did Rumplestiltskin not realize how empty a life was without one’s heart? Without it’s passionate beating, a man was nothing. HE was nothing, Hook simply existing, tired and almost wanting an end. 

Rumplestiltskin stated into his eyes, and then frowned. The limitations of a heart were slowly revealing itself, the man frustrated by the pirate’s lack of response. With a vicious snarl, his heart was squeezed, and only then did Hook cry out, pain NOT fear in his voice.

“While I am out there, doing your dirty work..” Hook said between gasps. “What are YOU going to be doing?”

He thought Rumplestiltskin was not going to bother answering, but then the man stepped back and chuckled. “I'm simply going to wake my wife.” He said, and walked towards the cot. “Its time to prepare her for my greatest gift...”

“And that is?” He watched as Rumplestiltskin’s fingers caught at one of the curls grazing against the slumbering beauty’s cheek.

“Belle’s going to have the life that she’s always wanted.” Rumplestiltskin smiled as he said this, as fond a look as the Dark One was capable of maintaining, cast Belle’s way. Hook knew that the monster wouldn't be quite so affectionate and devoted if he had any grasping of what had gone on, in this shop, in this very room. But the tryst stay locked in the pirate’s throat, the past night’s dealings remaining a secret buried between the two.

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to thrilled with my ending paragraph. It was sorta turning into the chapter that did not want to end. Next chapter SHOULD be a Belle POV...but I am not entirely sure how I am gonna go about it. It might be a short one too. Argh. Unless I like switch to a Hook pov halfway through...Just because I still have the diner scene to show...*face palms at self* I probably need some sleep before I am capable of figuring anything else out. Really I am hoping for a Belle chapter, and then a Hook chapter, then back to a Belle chapter which would wrap up the canon stuff...knock on wood.
> 
> Rather tired now...it‘s after five here and I still have to proofread. X_X
> 
> Laters!
> 
> \---Michelle


	5. Five

There is no rest to be found in her dreams. No freedom from the memories, or from the knowledge of what she has let happen. What she has done. It taunts and it haunts her, both the feelings and the actions, her voice locked in a silent whimper as bold blue eyes stare up from beneath her. She feels pinned in place by that gaze, by the lust blazing in his eyes. It brands her in place, tears another silent cry from her lips, Belle wanting, needing to look away. That she can't shouldn't surprise her, the beauty already knowing for fact that one cannot ever escape the memories of their sins.

There’s no sin greater than this, no mistake that could not be regretted more. She looks down at the memory of the man, the pirate, and everything from the look on his face, to the feel of him beneath her, to the large cock pumping vigorously inside her, are all the things, the moments that Belle will NEVER be able to forget. She’s tortured by this knowledge, actually changed by what has been done. The memories of one sexual escapade after another, in a night that had seemed endless, assailing her, forcing her to not only see but to actively relive each moment.

The moan that she gives voice to, that low whimper of sound that catches in her throat? It’s a mix of her agony, and of the desire, the lust that she had been feeling, surging stronger in her now. Belle can not help but be affected, cannot stop the desire coursing though her. It is an addictive thing, the pirate’s body moving against her own is a drugging influence that makes the beauty into an insatiable beast. She craves it, craves him, and her hips move with a needy volition that is all her own.

Another whimper, Belle biting down on her lip. He doesn't have to do anything, and already she is melting. Weak to it, to him, it’s her hands that touch him, her body that wriggles and writhes a top him. She moans and cries out, her voice tortured all the more for the arms reaching for her, the cold of his hook a contrasting sensation with the fevered warmth of his body. The shiver rolls through her, his hand caresses over her, the flat of it on her belly, sliding lower, lower, and Belle is crying out, twisting in place long before those talented fingers find and abuse the stiff nub of flesh that is her clitoris. A press of his thumb, a rub of his fingers, and Belle is breaking, her back arching as a powerful wave of pleasure ricochets through her.

His smug laughter echoes in her ears, his pleasure given voice as the pirate makes her dance in place. She reaches out with her hand, uses it to cover his mouth in attempt to make him be silent. Firm lips plant soft kisses against her palm, his fingers still busy playing at wringing out every last ounce of Belle’s pleasure. It won't be the first time, any more than it will be the last, that the pirate makes her come, Belle crying out, her voice ringing with a pleasured litany of moans that is downright obscene.

This is not her, the woman tells herself, even as she continue to moan out the pirate’s name. This is not what she is like, this passionate being a victim of circumstance, the curse forcing Belle into being someone that she is not. Someone who takes what they want, what they need, Belle using the pirate as much as he had her. She writhes on top of him, hears a mocking laugh that comes from within her, Belle freezing in place.

~Keep telling yourself that.~ The voice seems to say. ~And maybe eventually you will believe it.~

Her eyes fall close at that, shutting out the sight of the pirate, but there is no locking out the feel of him. Of the hard vitality inside her, of the greedy hand roaming her body, his fingers then finding and manipulating her right breast. Calloused fingers do a rough massage, touch down on Belle with the intent to posses. The voice from inside her laughs again, actively dares Belle to deny it, the pleasure and the feeling of how she has wanted to be owned.

“It’s not me.” Belle whispers in protest. “I would NEVER.”

~But you DID.~ Counters the voice immediately. ~And you savored every second!~

She cries out in denial, and tries to push up off the pirate. Her limbs are made heavy with her body’s protest, his hand and his hook going immediately to her hips. Belle doesn't resist as much as she would have liked, the pirate hauling her back into place, and then he is turning, twisting them both, the world itself tilting. She ends up on her back, the pirate’s weight pinning her in place. She stares up at him, fights the urge to grab at his shoulders and pull him even closer. She fights her desire, and Belle fights the voice, telling it that she doesn't want this, doesn't want the pirate pounding inside her.

~It is easier to pretend when he is holding you down.~ Speaks the voice in silken, thoughtful tones. ~Ah but it would be more convincing if you weren't screaming out for more.~

Her already fevered flesh, burns brighter with her blush, Belle shaking her head no. The unrelenting voice inside her continues it’s scathing commentary, calling Belle out on that which she tries to deny. 

~You want this.~ It says. ~You want HIM~

“No!” Belle protests weakly.

~You've ALWAYS wanted him.~ Continues the voice. ~From that first time in the tower, to the encounter on his ship, he’s left you burning, wondering, wishing that things had gone further.~

“No. No! NO!” She gets louder and louder, the voice and the pirate deaf to Belle’s cries. She’s trapped in his gaze, held still for his lusts, his eager desperation branding itself into her, the near violent thrust and glide of his cock making the beauty’s toes curl. And then she is clawing at him, hauling him closer, biting down on his lips. Her thighs squeeze tight around him, both her hands find purchase on the muscled perfection that is his toned ass. She digs her nails into that firm skin, urges him into a faster, even more unrelenting pace. He doesn't disappoint, makes Belle scream and moan into his mouth. She’s taking from him what the voice has accused her of always wanting, Belle giving in to the urgings, and there’s a laughter in her head that purrs it’s approval.

~That’s it!~ The voice says. ~THIS is who you always were. This greedy grasping woman that doesn't give a damn about anything, anyone but yourself. You don't care who you hurt, you don't care what you do. ~

The words are all wrong, the voice itself is wrong. Belle isn't any of those things, she’s kind, compassionate and caring, always putting others first. She’s a true hero, self sacrificing much for the good of so many others.

~Oh really?~ There’s an undercurrent of sarcasm to the voice. ~Some hero. Lying about Anna, leaving her to die for a STONE, that’s some right honorable stuff.~

“No...” Belle protests with a shake of her head. “That was...”

~That was what?~ Questions the voice sharply. ~A mistake? Oh but you make PLENTY of those. Everything and anything, right down to the men in your life. It’s all been one bad CHOICE after another, and what do you have to really show for it? No friends, no real family, just a monster for a husband.~

“He is NOT a monster!” But there is not as much venom in her tone as there should be, Belle sounding so weak and so uncertain. The voice preys on that weakness, feeds off her insecurities and births even more.

~You think because of love, it isn't for one second true? That you are made strong, that you are safe because the Dark One chose you?~ The voice becomes even more sinister now. ~Then tell him what you've done. Tell him and see how long that betraying heart of yours stays beating in your chest.~

“No! He would NEVER hurt me!” She’s crying for real now, tears that the pirate atop her attempts to kiss away. “Rumple LOVES me.”

~He didn't marry you out of love. He married you because you are weak, someone he can control, manipulate, lie to...~

She’s almost crying too hard to take note of what is being said, to realize she has heard similar stated before. The sob dies in her throat, Belle staring up at the pirate without really seeing him, the woman’s mind transporting her to a different time and place. To an icy cavern carved of pure white, the very air freezing, Belle shivering and it hadn't had all to do with the cold. 

In the Snow Queen’s lair, Belle had ventured forth. It was in there she had come, searching for that which might have made right her mistakes. The magical box, that could somehow tear out a person’s magic from them. That coveted device that she had hoped could somehow have been the key to not only the Snow Queen’s defeat, but to the finding and rescue of Anna. 

A voice had called to her then. The same voice she was hearing now. It had called, and it had seduced, and brought Belle before a covered mirror. With trembling fingers, the beauty had drawn back the white drape. Her reflection had gazed out at her, smiling a smile that Belle herself had not shared. That expression on her reflection’s face had been all wrong, no true warmth or empathy to be found. Instead there had been a twisted pleasure, a malicious joy as the reflection began it’s mocking of her.

“I'm surprised that you were brave enough to come in here.”

Wide eyed, Belle had stared, her fingers curling on the thin handle of the pick axe she had brought with her. She had felt scared, and so foolish, had known the pick axe would truly do nothing against a Queen who was so powerful. And yet she clutched at it still, holding it like it was a life line, like it would protect her from all harm.

“I….I had to.” Belle finally had spoke. “I have to find a way to help Anna.”

“Why?” The reflection had asked in a very surprised tone of voice. “You never really cared much for her BEFORE.” A malicious smile, the reflection enjoying the angry protest that Belle had then voiced.

“That’s not true!” She had cried out, and had taken an aggressive step towards the mirror. But she had never once tried to smash it, had never once thought to use the pick axe to destroy the reflection that gleamed sinisterly before her.

“Sure it is!” The reflection had maintained it’s evil grin. “You chose that rock over her. You had to remember what had happened to your mother…..” The reflections eyes gleamed, a dark truth shining from within. “No matter what the COST.”

Belle had briefly closed her eyes at that. “I made a mistake.” She had admitted. “I didn't mean to...”

“Ruin someone’s life?” The reflection had interrupted. “Well! It certainly wasn't your most heroic moment.” The bright tone had turned disgusted now. “Not that you've ever really been hero material.”

“Please!” She had stepped forward then, all aggression and desperation, shaking the pick axe at the mirror. “Please stop!”

Her pleas and her menace had fallen on deaf ears, the cruel voice of the refection taunting her further with it’s truth, with the insecurities of the heart it had laid bare. “Everyone sees you for what you really are, Belle. A pathetic coward.”

“No...” Belle had tried to weakly deny.

“Why do you think the Dark One married you?” The mirror had ruthlessly continued. “Do you think it was love? He needed someone WEAK, someone who he could manipulate.”

“No, that’s not true! He loves me!” She had dropped the pick axe, her fumbling hands reaching to draw the weapon out of the sheathe strapped to her hip. “He gave me this!” Belle had almost breathed out with relief, holding up the Dark One’s dagger to the mirror.

The reflection hadn't so much as scowled, it’s evil laughter immediate. “You truly believe that’s real?” It had asked, and had laughed again. “Deep down?” It had said in a somber, serious tone. “You know what kind of beast you are REALLY dealing with.”

Those last words of spoken insecurities, had made Belle go numb, the woman just standing there, locked into a staring contest with her evil reflection. She doesn't even know for how long she had ultimately stood there, doesn't know how much time was truly lost to her own reflection, but something horrible had been coming over Belle. It did worst than make her feel doubt, it had made Belle believe in everything that the reflection had said, Belle becoming her worst self for just one brief moment that had left her hysterical, wild, the woman lashing out. 

Hands had grabbed at her suddenly, had held her at bay. Belle had been aware of her own voice screaming, but had not been coherent enough to understand the words that she had been saying., She had just kept fighting, struggling in place, her grip on the dagger as absolute as her desire to kill had been.

 

Even once reality began to seep in, Belle having realized that she was back in the shop, her arms still being held by her husband’s strong grip, the woman had fought and screamed. Even as he had shouted back at her, trying to reassure her, to make her break free of the mirror’s spell, Belle had fought and screamed out denials.

“NO!” She had screamed. “You were outside the cave. I COMMANDED you to wait there.”

Her back was now to him, Belle having twisted in such a way that her body was trapped, pressed against his chest, his hands gripping strong hold of her wrists. “No.” He had corrected her. “You commanded me to keep watch. I sensed that she was coming back, so I came to find you. And I'm glad that I did...”

She had hesitated at that, had actually turned her head to truly look at him. The doubts birthed inside her had still remained, Belle certain that he was laying, certain that the dagger wasn't truly real. And then she had spied it, the blood welling on his neck. She had hurt him, the dagger had hurt him, the blood all the proof that Belle had needed to deny the reflection’s words.

The dagger had clattered to the floor, Belle sobbing in a combination of her immense relief and her staggering guilt. She had turned to embrace him, and he had more than let her, Rumplestiltskin holding her, comforting her, running a shaking hand over the back of her hair. She had sobbed and she had cried, all but bawling out her apologies, and shaking with the relief that he had not only forgiven her, but that Rumplestiltskin still had love for her yet.

~You think he'll forgive you for THIS?~ The voice of the reflection again intruded in on her thoughts. ~For HIM?~

“It was the curse.” Belle tried to sound defiant, tried to keep the uncertain quiver out of her tone. “He will understand that the Snow Queen’s curse led me to sleep with the pirate.”

~Oh, you did more than just SLEEP with the pirate.~ Mocked the voice. ~And in so many passionate ways! Your husband would be aghast to know just how thoroughly you have let yourself be debauched. How quick you were to bend over, how eager you were with your mouth. You think he'll want to kiss lips that have touch the pirate’s most intimate parts?!~

“Stop it!” Snapped Belle, trying to block out the voice. “I won't let you work your evil on me any more. I won't let you...”

~You won't let me?!~ Mocked the voice with a laugh. ~You CAN'T stop me. Anymore than you can stop yourself.~

With a gasp, Belle lurched upright into reality. Hands caught at her shoulders, stopping her from falling to the floor. The rapid blink of her eyes repeated numerous times, Belle trying to ascertain what was real and what was not. The woman realized that she was in her husband’s shop, laid out on a cot that seemed so out of place amidst the furniture and antiques cluttering about the back room.

“Bad dream?” Her husband, Rumplestiltskin softly asked. Belle blinked again, shook her head as though to clear herself of a fog.

“Something like that.” Belle muttered, ill at ease to lie to him, but just as uneasy at the thought of being one hundred percent truthful. “I can't believe that I fell asleep...”

“I can.” Rumplestiltskin eased her back onto the cot. “I bet you did not get a wink of sleep last night.” She startled in reaction, a shocked sound to her voice as some wordless protest escaped her. He laughed to hear it, tapping his fingertip gently against her nose. “It’s not that hard to guess. I bet there was few in this town who could have managed sleep while under the Snow Queen’s curse.”

“Er yes...” Belle slowly agreed. “The hate and the anger, that menace inside me, left me too restless. Even trapped as I was...” She frowned then, wondering how the protection spell had been broken on the shop.

“Not as trapped as I would have liked.” Rumplestiltskin admitted with a sigh. “The protection spell did not hold...”

“Do you have any idea why?”

“I have more than an idea.” He said, his hand going to Belle’s hair. “It was that Swan woman and the ice queen. Surely come to loot my shop, in their meandering, desperate attempts to find a way to defeat the Snow Queen and her curse.” His look was displeased, Belle wondering just what Elsa and Emma might have taken from the shop. “You're lucky you didn't run into them...”

“I must have still be inside the house.” Belle murmured, covering his hand with hers. It stopped the petting motion that he had been doing, Rumplestiltskin looking down at her with a smile. “Otherwise I might have hurt them.”

“You should be more worried about what I would have done to them, had those two set even one finger towards harming you.”

She shivered at the look in his eyes, and the deep growl of his voice. “They wouldn't have wanted to hurt me on purpose….Protected as they were from the curse, at worst Emma and Elsa would have only tried to stop me from attacking them.”

“That would have been intolerable, regardless of their reasons.” His hand slipped free from beneath hers, Rumplestiltskin walking over to one of the back room’s glass display counters. It was then that she noticed the covered tray, the man then picking it up and bringing it to set it down besides Belle on the cot.

“What’s this?”She inquired. 

“Just the first of my surprises.” He uncovered the tray, and the sights and smell of breakfast lay revealed to her. Belle breathed in deeply of the aroma, of the honey and maple syrups positively drenching the still warm waffles with their sweet taste.

“You take such good care of me...” She stared down at the breakfast, and felt the urge to start crying. The guilt was hitting her harder then ever, Belle remembering what she had done, and with who, a visceral memory of eyes colored a blazing blue sending a shudder to go through her. She was sobbing without realizing it, Rumplestiltskin suddenly there, pushing aside the tray, to take her in his arms.

“Hey...hey...” He tried to soothe. “The worst is over now. You never have to worry about the curse OR the Snow Queen again. Both have been defeated, destroyed.”

She continued to cry, her body being gathered up and seated across his lap. Rumplestiltskin held her, and he rocked her body in place, trying to give comfort to a heart that could no longer feel it. Belle curled her fingers on his expensive suit’s jacket, buried her face against his shoulder, and sobbed, her body shaking. She could feel a hand petting over her hair, could hear him murmuring reassurances to her.

She waited, and she listened, expecting the voice to speak up, to mock her. But it was silent in her head, her guilty heart the only voice she was capable of hearing in the moment. She all but drowned in its guilt, felt the ache of betrayal crash over her, Belle’s own fears and doubts eating away at her, the confessions swallowed up before the words could even form.

~He can never know~ She realized. ~He can never know just how much I had hated him. Or just how much that hate had driven me to try to hurt him.~

There was pain, and there was guilt, Belle hating the thought of such a secret existing between them. But she hated more the idea of losing him, of the idea of Rumplestiltskin turning cold and rejecting her. She clung harder in protest, cried even more as she tried to bury those thoughts and those feelings, and most of all those memories, Belle shaking in place with the realization that she would see the pirate every single time that she would close her eyes. He wasn't someone to easily forget, the intimacy of the things that they had done together, having left their devastating mark on her very soul.

He couldn't be erased, and the past could not be changed. And yet Belle lifted her head, smiled through her tears, and began to kiss Rumplestiltskin. Her husband made a sound, a surprised kind of protest that did not last. He returned the affection, but kissed her as though Belle was fragile, as though he was afraid that she would break. It was nothing like the pirate, Rumplestiltskin all gentle and soothing. Belle bit back a sob and kissed Rumplestiltskin harder, desperate to light him on fire, to prove to herself that he could and would be the better lover for her.

Fingers caught at the back of her hair, Belle feeling a thin thread of excitement. It was crushed almost immediately after, Belle realizing it wasn't a fit of passion that was taking him over, her husband instead gently pulling away, breaking free of the kiss.

“Hey now.” He said with a small smile. “There will be time enough for that LATER.”

Belle’s face burned with the rejection, the woman starting to move off of his lap. He didn't quite let her, his arms drawing her back to him, as Rumplestiltskin tried to soothe her hurt ego. “I have a much bigger surprise for you.” He whispered in her ear. “I think it’s time we have a proper honeymoon.”

“A honeymoon?”

“Yes.” He smiled at her. “How would you like to see a magical city called New York?”

“New York...” She had heard of that place, had read things about it in the many books that made up her library. It was said to be an exciting place, a bustling, thriving city of all races and culture. It was a place that had held an appeal, Belle wishing she could go beyond the enchanted borders of Storybrooke, and discover the rest of the world. But she had never tried, never dared, there had always been a curse in place, or people to care for, to protect.

But now? Now there was also people to forget, sins to put distance between. Visions of Hook’s body doing a sensual, desperate rut against hers danced in the beauty’s head, Belle meeting her husband’s eyes, and slowly nodding her answer. “I would like that very much...very much indeed.”

His smile bloomed happier, Rumplestiltskin letting go of her. “So after breakfast, pack a suitcase.” He advised her with that grin. “It’s time for you to see the world.”

\--------------------------------------------

To Be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this didn't get as far as I had thought. I had thought to work in the scene with Belle and Henry finding the gauntlet...but it didn't pan out that far. Funny when I originally worried this chapter would be too short, but now it’s longer than I had dared dream. Pretty happy with it too….even if I didn't fit in everything. I tried to ease into continuing it, to get to the Henry gauntlet scene, but all my attempts fell flat. Felt sucky.
> 
> Also, my writing program started acting screwy at the very end. No idea if the straight lines it has decided to insert into the file, will show up on the site when I post this. I apologize if it does. I've no idea how to get it to STOP doing that.
> 
> Catch you guys later!
> 
> \----Michelle


	6. Six

The sight of the diner beckoned before him, the neon lights of its sign flashing in welcome at him. There was a dull roar of sound that reached past the closed doors of the diner, a faint hum of busy sound that signified the late afternoon’s rush. That sound only grew stronger with each opening swing of the diner’s front door, and brought with it the faint aroma of deliciousness that was all Granny’s own. The woman’s food was the stuff of dreams, her skill with an oven surely a magic all of it’s own. Hook felt the first rumblings of hunger stir within him, his lack of heart not leaving him immune to his body’s most basic of needs.

But he wasn't here to eat. A fact that the pirate was reminded of by the crushing grip on his heart. Rumplestiltskin was watching, was actively forcing the pirate forward, Hook nothing more than a puppet on the monster’s strings. He couldn't stop, couldn't even hesitate to gather his bearing, to prepare himself for the mental energy needed to put on a show of feeling. His hand already reached for the door, his lips twisting with a pleasure that Hook did not feel. A woman brushed past him, and the pirate barely noticed, Hook then walking inside.

The pirate already knew who he would find amidst the late afternoon crowd. The savior and her three friends from Arendelle, Rumplestiltskin having used magic to ascertain and pinpoint just where the four of them would currently be. He really was that bothered by Anna, by her presence in town, the fiend keeping close tabs on the girl, desperate to avoid her and the knowledge that she unwittingly possessed.

Hook gave a glance Anna’s way, but there was no hope in him. His lack of heart wouldn't let him feel, not hope, not frustration, not even despair. He looked at the princess of Arendelle, and at best was indifferent, even as he was aware of the salvation that she held in her pale hands.

She had yet to notice him, they all had. Even Emma seemed oblivious, giving an apologetic look to the frustrated princess. Next to her, sat her sister Elsa, the Queen of Arendelle trying for a patience she did not feel, while the man, Kristoff drummed his fingers in an anxious beat across the table’s top.

“Swan.” Hook called out loudly, drawing the attention of most of the diner’s crowd of customers. “Come celebrate.” The pirate said once he had commanded hold of the savior’s attention. She looked confused, giving him the most perplexed of looks that the three from Arendelle were also sharing. 

“I may not be the savior...” Hook continued in a gloating tone. “But I've just saved the day.” 

She rose up from her seat, murmuring something about not getting their hopes up. Hook’s rigid smile was in place, his hand withdrawing a flask from inside his short jacket. With a practiced skill, he expertly popped the top off with his thumb, the pirate then pouring the rum into two empty tea cups that had laid out neglected on the diner’s counter.

“Okay.” Emma said as she approached, a wary look in her eyes as she stared out at Hook. “What exactly are we celebrating?” She asked with that still perplexed frown.

“The portal to Arendelle.” He picked up and handed her one of the tea cups, then lifted the other before him. That gruesome mockery of smile remained, Hook staring her down with an intensity that screamed at her to just finally notice the wrongness about him. “I found it.”

The shock stirred up by his reveal, was a pleasant one, Emma gaping in astonishment at him. She didn't once notice the weirdness of his expression, barely managed any suspicion. Without any real feeling, Hook brought his cup to clink against hers. 

“So...” He would urge her, maintaining his stare. “Bottoms up.” 

He tossed down the drink without truly tasting it, his eyes all for Emma. He kept his gaze locked on her, watching as she tentatively sipped at her cup.

“You...” The slightest hesitating pause. “You found a portal?”

“Well I found Gold, and he told me where to locate one.” It wasn't a lie, though it wasn't a complete truth either. But it was a line blurred enough that the savior’s lie detecting power wasn't triggered, the woman staring with a shocked kind of surprise. “A door in the ballroom of that lakeside mansion. You know the one...”

She nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. Was she wondering at the coincidence, or was Emma simply remembering how she had nearly chosen to give up her magic at that very mansion. Her blood would run cold if the woman had realized just what else she had nearly given up on that night, the trap Rumplestiltskin had laid out for her designed to take Emma’s life.

With that grimace of a smile still twisting on his face, Hook ground out the words. “Yes.” He said, and felt the answering squeeze on his heart. The words were being whispered over his heart, every line forced out one of Rumplestiltskin’s careful devising. “It appears our Rumplestiltskin has turned over a new leaf.”

“Apparently dozens of leaves.” Emma murmured, then shook her head, the first, the only real suspicion blooming within her. “Are you sure we can trust him?”

“I'm positive.” Even if he himself hadn't been privy to what was wrong with him, Hook would have known that much for a lie. Why didn't Emma notice? Why couldn't she sense how wrong this all was, why did the savior not realize these were all things that the pirate would never have willingly said about his most hated of enemies.

“The crocodile surely has changed.” The hollow words fell from his lips, and Emma just accepted them. Was it shock that kept her power from the truth, or was that lie detecting ability all just in her head? He didn't know one way or the other, didn't know if each time Emma had sensed a lie, if it had just been a good guess guided by her finely honed instincts.

“Oh, he gave me a long winded explanation about the portal. About how it brought the Snow Queen to this land.” He had set down the cup to wave his hand in an uncaring motion, and even that was planned out, Rumplestiltskin pulling on Hook’s strings. 

“Which I don't recall.” It was said to stave off the many questions Emma might have asked, and Hook all but glared at her, willing her to realize even this much was wrong. His memory was excellent, his nose for details especially extraordinary when it came to magic of all nature. Hook had made a habit of studying it, learning it, his mind full of both the fact and the fiction of it. There were thousands of spells and enchantments, more magic than any one person could learn in a single life time. He knew of most of them, knew what they were rumored to do, and knew what in truth they actually did. And it was with this same knowledgeable mind, that Hook would have retained the details of Rumplestiltskin’s story.

“But...” He'd be disappointed if he could feel, might even manage a bit of anger if his heart had been in it’s rightful place. “But the important thing is, it WORKS. All they have to do is walk through it.”

“So then we should go.” Emma had set down her tea cup.

“Brilliant!” Hook said with false cheer. Did she even notice? Did she even care? “You go do that. I alas...” He made a face. “I alas bruised myself during the curse. Really need to get it seen too...”

He made a move to brush past her, when Emma grabbed hold of his arm. He almost barreled forward, and then Rumplestiltskin was freezing him in place for Emma’s question. 

“Hey..Killian.” She said. “What’s wrong?” Her other hand lifted up, actually cupped his face as she stared into his eyes. “You are acting strange.”

It was about time that she noticed, but her show of concern would be easily brushed aside. “Nothing.” Hook grit out. “I am fine.” He leaned forward, brushed an unfeeling kiss on her lips at Rumplestiltskin’s urgings. “See you around….love.”

The crushing grip came, the bruising strength battling with Hook’s will, as the man grabbed rough hold of Emma’s arm. He didn't look at her, didn't so much as manage a word. He just stared straight ahead, with his jaw clenching, his hand shaking violently where it lay on Emma’s arm. Rumplestiltskin was snarling, squeezing down on his heart, this rare act of defiance a last ditch effort of Hook’s. If this couldn't alert Emma to the truth of the wrongness before her, then nothing would.

The battle felt like it lasted a life time for all the energy that Hook exerted. That act of defiance in truth, lasted only a few seconds at best, before Hook’s hand was abruptly letting go. Out the corner of his eye, Hook saw how Emma cocked her head to the side. She looked confused, but made no move to stop him, Emma simply letting Hook walk out of the diner.

The door swung close behind him. Hook glanced up at the sky, at how it was already starting to darken in that early way that only winter caused. How much time did he have left? How much longer before Rumplestiltskin crushed his heart for good? From the looks of the sky, he'd say less than an hour, maybe forty minutes at best. 

The squeeze on his heart came, Rumple forcing Hook to move. The pirate would start to resist, his every step wooden, his every act of defiance pain laced, Hook a puppet whose strings were being jerked, the man being forced somewhere. By the time he was in front of the library, Hook was hunched over, gasping in pain.

“I would say that little stunt has cost you, but the simple fact is that you have nothing else left to lose.” Rumplestiltskin’s voice hissed in his ear, the man there, and stalking past the pirate, to push open the doors to the library. He paused when the fiend realized that the pirate was not following. “Are you trying to make me mad enough to crush your heart ahead of time? Well, don't bother...as much as I would enjoy seeing you writhe in that kind of pain, I am too close to accomplishing what I have always wanted.” 

He crooked a finger at Hook, and the pirate moved. The will of the holder of his heart was near absolute, Hook following Rumplestiltskin into and through the library, to a rusted old elevator that led to more than just the clock tower. The basement and it’s many secrets, the dead body of Maleficent, and an endless pathway of mines. None of these things were what they were after, the elevator going up, not down.

They rode up in silence, Rumplestiltskin doing nothing more to gloat than to smile. There was an evil satisfaction in his eyes, and a kind of giddy anticipation that did not have all to do with the crushing of Hook’s heart. The fiend could taste his victory in the air, was probably already imagining just how much more powerful he would feel once free of the dagger.

With a great clatter of sound, the elevator doors opened. Rumplestiltskin stepped out in the lead, reaching into his suit’s jacket, to retrieve the dagger. The hat box was already laid out on a make shift alter, looking so small and innocuous. The jagged blade of the Dark One’s dagger gleamed, Rumplestiltskin doing small, circular motions over the hat box. Those actions of his, made it glow with a pink and purple light, something starting to change, the shape of the box morphing, becoming thicker at it’s base, with it’s top lengthening out into a hat’s thin tip.

This wasn't the first time that Hook had been privy to the box’s transformation. Rumplestiltskin had been like a child with a new toy, unable to resist showing off the box, and the magical hat it actually was in truth. That hat had belonged to a man who Hook had only heard whispers about, a man who was only known as THE sorcerer. This man of magic was rumored to be powerful enough that even the Dark One had known fear. Fear and envy, the covetous desire upon him, the sorcerer’s hat the key to the Dark One’s ambitions to finally be free of the controlling magic of the dagger.

“When the stars in the hat align with those in the sky, we shall begin...”

“You mean I shall END!” Hook bit out with a snarl. “Let’s not start mincing our words NOW.”

“Oh how brave.” Rumplestiltskin had looked up from the hat, whose embroider stars twinkled with the glow of magic. Each one was a symbol, each one representing the magic of the person who had been sacrificed to the hat. There was a whole lot of stars to be found, an entire coven of fairies gone, lost to the inside of the hat, their magic gathered, harnessed for this very night. Rumplestiltskin hadn't just captured the fairies, he had condemned an entire town. He had used Hook to do it, his hold on the man’s heart, forcing the pirate to gather and collect each and every last one right in the midst of their endeavors to create a counteracting magic strong enough to turn aside the Snow Queen’s curse.

“I half expected you to crumble at the precipice of your demise.” He didn't seem to understand, without his heart, Hook was incapable of feeling even fear. It didn't stop him from goading the monster, from reminding him of what Rumplestiltskin ultimately truly was.

“I'm not the one who is a coward.”

“Well then...” There was anger in his eyes, Hook having landed a blow to Rumplestiltskin’s ego. “You'll enjoy watching this coward crush your heart.” A vicious snarl, a twisting of his lips into a smirk, Rumplestiltskin then started to use magic, the roof of the clock tower rumbling, it’s tiles sliding back, to force itself to lay open to the sky. Hook glanced up, and saw that night had truly fallen, the stars having started to glow in the sky. One by one they twinkled to life, and they were in direct correlation to the position of the stars on the hat’s embroider sky.

It was over. It was finally over, Rumplestiltskin had finally won. And Hook couldn't feel one way or another about it, so tired, and exhausted from his week’s long ordeal. He stood there in defeat, his body sagging with a sigh, only to stiffen anew when he felt cruel fingers grip hold of his heart. A tension Hook hadn't been aware he had been capable of still feeling, filled him. He wasn't scared, and he was not angry, but Hook was on edge, a restless energy to him that made the pirate want to scream. To snarl and demand that Rumplestiltskin stop with the posturing and just ends this, end HIM, and then the sorcerer’s hat was floating upwards. 

Hook stared as it exploded, the stars coming alive in the tower. In that enclosed space, a small galaxy did appear, it’s stars twinkling with soft colors, the pink and purples lights aglow and swirling, and it was mesmerizing and all that Hook could see. It held him in rapt fascination, Hook all but deaf to the words Rumplestiltskin was now speaking.

“It is time…!” The magic took hold of him, the monster enveloped in the same pink and purple glow of the mini galaxy spread out around them. Hook’s heart was in his hand, the dagger in the other, and then Rumplestiltskin did the most astonishing of things. He set the dagger aside, actually set it down on the altar, all in order to then grip hold of the pirate’s heart with both of his hands. There was a look in his eyes, a triumphant relish, the man starting to squeeze. Hook cried out, actually screamed with his pain. It covered the sounds of the elevator opening, but not the worried, frantic screams of the two women rushing out of it.

“GOLD!” Emma screamed, her mother Snow White besides her. “Stop!”

Hook didn't know how it was possible, didn't know how Emma had figured it out in time. And then a squeeze on his heart, had him grunting in pain. 

“I'm sorry.” His malevolent glare belied that as a false sentiment of sorrow. “But I can't. I have waited too long for this.” Rumplestiltskin told them. “And I am TOO close.”

Emma frowned, her eyes too worried to properly glare. Her arm was already raising, but she was too too slow, the magic in her hand freezing, as a red light enveloped the savior and her mother. Unblinking, unmoving, they just stood there, made into living, breathing statues by Rumplestiltskin’s magic. He turned to Hook, and now Rumplestiltskin really did gloat, the man all but purring in satisfaction. 

“Well maybe not everything went according to plan.” A slow, unbothered smirk. “But this next part? This next part I am going to enjoy.” It was hissed out of him, Rumplestiltskin squeezing down on Hook’s heart. From the slow way that he did it, it was clear the monster wasn't just going to kill Hook, but draw out every second of the pirate’s agonizing torment.

Hook began screaming in earnest, the tortured sound of his voice masking all other sounds. Certainly the rattle of his breath, and the sound of his knees slamming into the floor were lost to the screams, Hook hunched over, gripping at his chest with his hand. His last sight would not be of Rumplestiltskin, Hook refusing to give that grinning monster the satisfaction.

Rumple was laughing, reveling in his power, in the torture he was inflicting. He squeezed, and he squeezed, his expression twisting more and more evil until suddenly it was not. Hook didn't see it, didn't see the way Rumplestiltskin went cold with his dismay, a shocked kind of sound stuttering out of him as the monster tried to understand just what was happening.

I...I don't understand.” He said in a small, whining voice. “Why can't I?”

The crushing pain of fingers squeezing down with the intent kill now left him, Hook risking a glance up. Rumplestiltskin was staring down not at him, but at the heart in his hands, complete confusion in his eyes as his fingers relaxed more and more.

“Because I commanded you NOT to.” said a woman’s familiar voice. Hook looked past Rumplestiltskin’s body, to spot the petite beauty who stood directly behind the monster. In her hands was the dagger, her fingers’ grip fisting the handle so tightly, that all color had bled out of her knuckles. Her eyes were angry, the beauty absolutely furious, her voice as close to a snarl as Hook had ever heard from her.

“Drop the heart.” She enunciated carefully, each word punctuated with anger.

Rumplestiltskin looked afraid, looked like the coward Hook had always known him to be. His lower lip trembled, the man letting go, the heart dropping downwards. The second it broke the contact of Rumplestiltskin’s hands, Hook lunged for it, scrambling forward on his knees to catch the precious organ before it could hit against the floor.

“Now release everyone.” Belle continued in that careful, angry manner of speaking. Rumplestiltskin seemed resigned to it, flinging out his arm, the spell on Emma and her mother suddenly gone, the two lurching forward in a clumsy manner, Emma’s magic ricocheting off the wall behind him. 

The mother and daughter looked confused, and Hook couldn't blame them. He stayed kneeling on the floor, actively cradled his heart in his hands, while looking up at his savior, at the beautiful Belle. She wasn't even looking his way, her eyes all for Rumplestiltskin, as she stepped closer to him.

“And now?” She said still with that furious thread of anger. “Now you can take us to the town line.” Belle hissed. “Because we need to be alone, for what comes next.”

The monster’s eyes closed, a red magic enveloping both him and the beauty. When the thick choking smell of it’s smoky, corporeal form dissipated, Hook found himself alone at the top landing of the clock tower. Emma screamed out his name, his real name, and the sound of her feet pounding up the stairs was heard. On unsteady feet, Hook slowly stood up, still clutching carefully at his heart. She was already throwing her arms around him, pulling him to her. He heard the whispered relief, heard how she condemned herself for not realizing sooner what had really been going on. But most of all, he heard the questions, of which there was many, Emma wanting to know all that had happened, down to the finest of detail.

He still couldn't feel anything, not even relief. He stared down at his heart, the organ looking just a little worse for wear, it’s red glow slightly diminished by the black inside it’s center but it wasn't out and out rotten. It had survived, HE had survived, and there was nothing worst that could be done. 

The worst of the storm weathered, Hook wrapped his arm around Emma, gave her the comfort she was seeking. She clung harder to him, buried her face against his neck, and breathed in the scent of him. He just stared at his heart, knowing he would not be able to reciprocate the feelings that Emma was expressing until after it’s passionate beat was alive once more in his chest.

“Let’s get out of here.” suggested Hook. Emma made a sound, a kind of strangled agreement.

“There’s just one more thing that I have to do.” 

He thought she meant to see to the hat, to use her magic to dispel the small galaxy that had taken up residence in the tower. He thought wrong, Hook finding the collar of his jacket roughly seized hold of, Emma hauling him towards her for a most passionate kiss. He felt her lips moving urgently against his in a desperate need of confirmation, and Hook felt nothing, not even the slightest stirring of passion. He wondered why that was, wondered if it was madness or magic that found Emma lacking where another had not. An image of Belle came unbidden to his mind, Hook remembering the feel of her, the passion and desire that she had stirred within him. It was Belle that Hook thought of as he kissed Emma back, but without his heart, even guilt was denied him, the pirate simply unfeeling, uncaring, unable to worry, unable to be sorry.

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah….I don't like my last batch of paragraphs. It was turning into a chapter that did not want to end, and I couldn't seem to find a good way to get it to a good ending point. X_X 
> 
> Next chapter will be a Belle POV, though I may back track a little to possibly show her with Henry, and then lead into the whole stop Rumple from crushing Hook’s heart moment. We'll see….depends on how it will flow for me.
> 
> Glad to have this chapter over. The set up for this story is almost past the cannon scenes! Very eager to get to eight, and start writing out the stuff I have planned! Whoo! Though I don’t have time to proofread right now, so posting this will have to wait until I get back from my appointment.
> 
> Laters!
> 
> \---Michelle


	7. Seven

It had gone blessedly quiet in her head, no random stray thoughts to be found, no niggling fears and worries.. Certainly there was no evil inner voice speaking. There was also no strength left to her many denials, Belle tired of fighting, of believing in the supposed good of her husband. Her pretenses blown, the sentiments of her heart had aligned with the voice for just one second. And with that joining, her worst self had been snuffed out with a satisfied sound, a hissing, grating laugh of triumph as Belle’s eyes had finally truly opened and seen Rumplestiltskin for just WHO he really was.

A monster. 

Her eyes already so wet, overflowed with her tears, Belle sad and heartbroken, actually sick, and most of all ANGRY. That anger had started some time ago, long before she had set foot in her library’s clock tower. Her hurt and her confusion had birthed together the first strains of her anger, the voice that had haunted Belle continuing to hiss out all of her doubts and insecurities, the very things she had been trying to avoid for so long. It had whispered of the things she had chosen to ignore, the signs that had laid out right in the open, Belle maintaining her ignorance, her bliss. That reality’s lies had all cracked apart, with the loud crash of sound that was the heavy metal gauntlet thumping hard against the shop’s floor.

She had frozen at that sound, at the memory that had tickled through her thoughts. Of a similar sound, the gauntlet being spitefully thrown across the cliff side, to smash on the rocks before the dark witch, Maleficent’s feet. Belle hadn't been able to turn, not as constricted and near to death as the beauty had been made to feel by the sea witch’s tentacles. Certainly she couldn't see the gloating smile on Maleficent’s face, though she had heard the purr of satisfaction in her voice.

“Let her go.” Maleficent had ordered the sea witch, Ursula, whose tentacles had squeezed out one last warning around Belle’s body. Somewhere from behind her, with the smell of smoke and tonic around her, Cruella De Ville had been busy laughing.

“We've got what we wanted.” She had said in her sneering manner of speaking. 

“That we did.” Ursula had agreed, her tentacles shoving Belle violently forward. She had stumbled and had been caught, Rumplestiltskin’s arms around her. He had looked furious, glaring at the three evil women, and his lips had pulled back to reveal his teeth in a wordless snarl of threat. There had been the feel of magic from behind her, and even without turning to look, Belle had known that Maleficent and the others had used some kind of spell to make their getaway.

Only then did Rumplestiltskin’s anger start to leave him, his eyes having gleamed with an unfathomable darkness. Belle whose hands had still been bound by thick iron manacles, had shifted against him, had looked up at him with no real fear. She had been confused, by the man and the feeling that was starting to blossom to life inside of her heart, Belle’s eyes full of wonder and curiosity as she had parted her lips with a breathy sigh.

“Why would you do that for me?”

Rumplestiltskin had still held her, had actually touched a hand to the back of Belles’ hair. “They may have the gauntlet, but they will NEVER be able to harm you.” He had looked fierce, his upset revealing a protective side to him that she had never before been privy to. It had made her smile, had made her long for the heavy manacles to be gone so that she could reach up and caress inquisitive fingers over his cheek.

“Why do you care about me?” She had still been in his arms, had still been wearing that gentle smile. A longing had been inside her, it and with it had come a real need to understand. He had seemed absolutely flabbergasted in turn, staring at her for a long moment. And then the moment was gone, the man shoving her away from him with a snarl.

“I don't.” Rumplestiltskin had said. “But if anyone is going to crush your heart, it is going to be ME.”

He had tried to scare her, had tried to use fear and intimidation tactics to hold her at bay. Belle had heard those words, and had not seen the monster that Rumplestiltskin had wanted to be, but a living breathing man. One had who used his power and his beastly persona, to hide the lonely, hurt heart that existed inside of him.

That had been the first time for her. The first time that Belle had come to believe in the man over the beast. Her heart had opened, something changing inside her, Belle actively looking, searching for cracks in Rumplestiltskin’s thick armor. And in some ways, she still was doing exactly that, the reappearance of the lost gauntlet a temptation she hadn't been able to resist. 

A dozen doubts and questions in her mind, the sight and touch of the gauntlet had brought out the worst in her. That voice from inside, bringing with it the full force of all of Belle’s insecurities, her hidden fears, and her worries. Belle had stared down at the gauntlet, had ignored the brunt of Henry’s questions about it, and all the while she had waged an internal war. The voice had pushed at and prodded her, had actively sneered, whispering insinuations in Belle’s ear. That inner voice of her worst self had hissed about Rumplestiltskin, had wondered just what else the man had been hiding, and why. With an annoyed snarl, Belle had put her hand inside the gauntlet, intent on shutting the voice up. Intent on proving to it and to herself that Rumplestiltskin and his love was true.

Her world had then spun apart when the magic of the gauntlet had been triggered, Belle feeling the power course through her. For one triumphant second, she had been gloating, thinking this the solid proof of Rumplestiltskin’s love for her. The first blow was dealt to her, the voice laughing as the gauntlet’s power had found Belle to be lacking, arcing up out of her to go across the street, it’s inexorable pull tempting her to follow after it. The anger had started then, her hurt and confusion being preyed upon by the voice. It would not let her maintain her denial, the voice all but screaming the truth in her ear, the magic of the gauntlet rejecting her the proof that Belle was NOT what Rumplestiltskin loved the most.

Not wanting to acknowledge it, unable to NOT, Belle had given in to the pull of the gauntlet’s magic. It had led and she had followed, and all too soon she was before a building. But not just any building, but hers, Belle seeing the library and how it’s front doors had been flung inwards and carelessly left open in someone’s haste to get inside. It was too late for bad feelings, too impossible to not follow through. The magic had beckoned, and Belle had angrily followed, desperate to know just what it was that Rumplestiltskin valued more than her, his own wife. 

She had almost failed to taste the power in the air, the dark magic that had been busy being cast above her, or that of the familiar ripple that had raced across her skin. It had been a familiar enough sensation, a dark sensual tingle that was uniquely her husband’s own. With Rumplestiltskin’s magic flaring dramatically about her, Belle had broken out into a run. The elevator had soon been before her, Belle slapping an impatient hand against it’s doors. It wouldn't open, all of it’s symbols alight, it’s buttons glowing, and it was more than just the elevator being stuck between floors. It simply hadn't been responding, not even at her numerous attempts at calling for it, and Belle’s sense of dread had only grown. She had been more aware than ever of the dark magic being cast somewhere above her, and it had left her desperate and afraid, actually frightened of what she might discover. There had been anger there too, Belle full of a kind of twisted loathing supplied to her by the voice. It had mocked her, and it had goaded her forward, actively daring Belle to go face the truth of her husband.

Belle had almost resisted, had almost stepped back. The truth held the power to be terrifying, but it would have been just as equally frightening to go on not knowing, to go on living her lies. With a tortured sound of frustration and fear, Belle had slammed both fists against the elevator’s locked door. Thwarted by it, but not out of the game by a long shot, Belle had shot forward to the back of the library, to the service stairs she had almost never had reason to use.

Those stairs though not often used, had retained access to all floors of the building. Everything from the library, to the clock tower, to the labyrinth of passages down below. But the abandoned mines, and the witch’s body in the basement, had held no appeal, the dark magic having gathered above her, and the guiding force of the gauntlet had also been urging Belle upwards. Her every step had been uncertain, Belle’s inner turmoil waging a battle that was similar to the two magics that had been guiding her. They had all battled for supremacy inside her, the gauntlet, the voice, and Belle’s own feelings.

Her anger had mounted, her fear had nearly cut off her breath, Belle choking on the tumultuous energy that was all her own. She had been past hoping, past the point of even praying. Neither the Gods, nor her own attempt at denials could have stopped this, the nightmarish reality she had awakened to. Fear and resentment, anger and hurt, Belle’s disappointment had triggered long before she had stepped onto the top landing of the clock tower. Without a sound, she had taken it all in, that of the sight of her husband reveling in his starring role as VILLAIN.

Belle had nearly not been able to take her eyes off of Rumplestiltskin in all his malevolent glory. Her heart had twisted with pain, the voice inside her having extinguished on a laugh, as Belle had finally registered just what her husband was attempting to crush in his hands. A heart, all aglow with it’s pain, it’s rapidly faltering connection to the pirate had still been strong enough to force him to suffer along side it. Belle had had one moment to act, one moment to take note of everything happening around her. That of the pirate collapsed on the floor,, actually writhing in place on his knees. That of Snow White and Emma Sawn, frozen in place at the foot of the tower, their screaming faces locked in a silent protest forever, their horrified expressions ones that Belle couldn't at all fault them for.

With that same look of horror, she saw her husband now, saw who he was, WHAT he was. The villain of the story, of ALL their stories, the hopeless despair upon her but so was the anger, propelling Belle forward. The mini galaxy that had taken residence inside the tower, it was something like a fog, the chill frost of it’s space on her skin, competing with the warm glow of it’s sun and it’s stars. With those conflicting sensations, she had stepped forward, her eyes on the prize. Her husband never even saw her coming, too lost to his own gloating victory, too distracted by his slow, cruel act of torturing the pirate to death.

Belle had walked forward, the gauntlet’s magic almost forgotten. It had circled around Rumplestiltskin, as though to say what he had loved most was himself. Her expression had hardened with her anger, the woman having wondered how he could be so selfish, so narcissistic. The gauntlet’s magic had circled around him once more, and then broke away, alighting atop the one object still capable of stopping the Dark One in his tracks.

Belle had taken hold of the dagger without even looking at it, her fingers squeezing tight around the hilt. There had been no room for accidents, Belle determined to not relinquish her hold on the dagger until after her husband had been stopped. Her rage and her disappointments, her heart break all spiraled together, sharpening her will, hardening the sweet girl inside her into a being of absolute control. Without screaming, without so much as crying, she had THOUGHT the command, had forced Rumplestiltskin to freeze in place. He had tried to fight it, tried to continue squeezing down on the pirate’s heart, but Belle’s hurt and her anger had made her stronger, the woman easily subduing the struggle inside him.

“I...I don't understand.” He had said in a weak, whining tone of voice. “Why can't I?”

There had been a vicious satisfaction inside her, an angry triumph that had leaked into her voice. “Because I commanded you NOT to.”

Her husband seemed to tremble before her, fighting against the power of her command, but his desire was no match for Belle’s anger, her very expression twisted with it. She was beyond furious, beyond livid, Belle so angry she could barely speak. The snarl of it had punctuated each of her words, Belle betraying the depths of the damage his betrayal had done to her with it, the woman then ordering him to drop the pirate’s heart.

The heart fell free of the slackened grip around it, and Belle had a detached moment where she took note of it. The pirate’s heart wasn't as rotten as she had once insisted, glowing a mostly healthy red, with only a few drops of darkness floating in the center of it. She had almost laughed then, sick with it, with herself, Belle realizing that Rumplestiltskin wasn't the only one that she had been wrong about.

The pirate’s heart wasn't rotten, and her husband’s wasn't changed. He was still the same man, the same cold unfeeling monster that everyone else had always insisted him to be. She felt her disappointment rise up with the bile in her throat, Belle wondering how she could have ever let herself be so deceived. Her eyes hardened then, Belle vowing then and there that no more would she allow the wool to be pulled over her eyes. 

“Now release everyone.” 

A sudden blast of magic ricocheted off the wall that was behind Rumplestiltskin, Emma and her mother suddenly free and confused. To them Belle had just appeared out of nowhere, the two women not yet putting together that they had been frozen by a spell. 

Rumplestiltskin was still trembling, shaking with what might just be his desperation. Did he feel anything beyond a guilt at having been caught, stopped? Did he even still feel anything for HER? Belle fought the sentiment, knowing that regardless of how he answered, Belle would suffer the consequences of that question. It was simply a truth that she was better off not knowing, Belle glaring at her husband as she gave yet another command.

“And now?” She had said to his back. “Now you can take us to the town line.” She inched closer to him, her voice still so angry and furious. “Because we need to be alone for what comes next.”

Rumplestiltskin didn't turn to her, he didn't because she wouldn't let him, Belle not yet braced to look into his eyes. Maybe she'd NEVER be ready, and that was exactly why she had did what she had had to, the red smoke curling around her, and around him, taking them out of the clock tower, and bringing them to the edge of the town’s massive forest.

The town’s line was just a few yards away, the messy scrawl of it’s red paint blazing a warning against all who would trespass near it. And across it was magic, or rather the distinct lack of it, that the rest of this realm was afflicted with. Unseen was the barrier, the spell that separated the two realms. Belle knew, thanks in no small part to Henry, that the magic of the Snow Queen had warped the very air. The magic that twisted there, made the trip over the town line a one way endeavor. There would be no coming back, no way to even try, Belle staring with hard, determined eyes, toughening up her resolve. 

“Belle...”

Rumplestiltskin’s voice cowering with his uncertainties, sounded from behind her. For one second she closed her eyes, Belle allowing herself this much of a weakness, before she turned to face him. 

“What are you doing?” He took a step back for every step forward of hers, Belle advancing on him with the dagger.

“I am finally facing the truth.” With her grip on the dagger, Belle maneuvered them so that she was no longer standing between her husband and the town line. He didn't seem to realize the danger, didn't seem to believe in her threat. She thickened her resolve, giving him a dark warning glare, Belle determined to not be weak any longer, and especially not around HIM.

“Belle...please...” He was saying, holding up his hands in a pleading gesture. “Put the dagger down. And let me explain.” It wasn't said with his usual coaxing tones, but neither was there an angry snarl with that. He was too on edge, too nervous, Rumplestiltskin trying for a relaxed, pleasant tone. As though he hoped to lull her into trusting him, into letting her guard down around him.

“NO!” She then shouted at him as he took a step towards her. “It’s MY turn to talk.” She was holding him at bay with the dagger, the man carefully avoiding it as he eyed her, looking for a weakness, an opening to exploit. Belle only gripped the dagger tighter, her fingers almost screaming in protest, and that bit of pain was nothing compared to the turmoil of her betrayed heart.

“Do you remember the first time that you saved my life? You traded for me.” Her eyes misted over, Belle trying to use her anger to hold back her tears. “It was then that I thought I saw something in you. Something GOOD.”

His trembling lips tried to form a smile, as though Rumplestiltskin was proud or flattered by what she was saying. Or maybe he just thought that her memories were a way of her resolve weakening, Belle glaring at him lifting her hand that had the gauntlet still on it. His face stripped of much of it’s remaining color, his shock and dismay such that Belle realized he hadn't even noticed it until right then and there.

“Well, as you can see, I found that gauntlet today. And with it, I finally realized something.” She gave a harsh sobbing sound, that could have been her bitter attempt at a laugh. “I realized a lot of things actually. That all the signs that I have been seeing were correct. That you would never give up power for me, Rumple.” A tear inched out and ran it’s course down her cheek, Belle’s pain unable to be held at bay by her anger any longer.

“YOU NEVER have. And you never will...”

He had stepped forward once more, reaching for her, for the dagger with his hands. She pushed back with the combined power of the dagger and her own will, Rumplestiltskin forced back yet another step towards the town’s border. “You don't understand!” He cried out, and took his eyes off of her long enough to cast a nervous glance at the border behind him.

“No.” Belle snapped with real bite, her every step forward forcing her husband to take another step back. It was with clear reluctance, the man trying to fight it, fight her, but she was as unrelenting in intent as she was with her words. “You told me that the gauntlet could lead you to someone’s weakness. To the thing that they love the most. Well, you know where it led me to, Rumple? To the REAL dagger.” Another tear escaped her, and she let it, let it scald her skin with the proof of how much her husband had hurt her. “Your true love is your POWER.”

“I LIKE the power.” He didn't even have the gall to deny it, the man shaking, trembling without real apology to him. “There is nothing wrong with power. But it doesn't mean that I...that WE can't have it all!”

She was crying in earnest now, his every uttered word twisting a knife deep inside her. “I just wanted YOU!” She cried out at him. “I just wanted to be CHOSEN. I tried to be everything for you, Rumple...But I wasn't enough. I was NEVER enough.” She didn't even try to bite back her sobs, Belle crying, letting all her hurt and betrayal out in the sound of her voice, in the look in her eyes.

“I wasn't enough, and in trying to help you find yourself, I lost ME. I lost my way, but NOT anymore.”

The finality of those particular words, seemed to strike a chord deep within him, Rumplestiltskin starting to cry in earnest. With wet eyes, with trembling lips, he began to beg her, the line blurred between real despair and manipulation, and it didn't matter what was his real reason for Belle was through.

“Belle, please, I'll make it up to you.” He was saying, desperately grasping at straws. “I changed once before, I can do it again!” His eyes were bright with his tears, his trembling smile trying to encourage her to once again believe in the best of him.

“You've never changed.”

“Please!” He lunged forward, one hand going for her wrist, the other extending fingers towards her face.

“NO!” She held him off with the dagger, with the command of her will. The inner strength that Belle had found to stand up to him shocked them both, the beauty bringing the monster to heel before her. “It’s too late.” Her tone heart broken, Belle dealt the final most devastating blow that she could. “Once I saw the man behind the beast. Now? Now there is ONLY the beast.”

With the dagger raised before her eyes, Belle stared at the engraved cursive that scripted out the Dark One’s true name. “Rumplestiltskin, I command you to LEAVE Storybrooke.”

“Belle no, please!” He cried out, even as his body started walking. It wasn't nearly fast enough for Belle’s liking, the woman advancing on him with the dagger, forcing him to move faster and fast. “I...I won't be able to come back...”

“I KNOW!” She snapped out, her anger almost crumbling apart as it gave way to the full force of her broken heart.

He cast a glance behind him, started outright crying harder as he saw he was two steps away from being forced over the line. “I don't want to lose you!” He moaned in a last ditch effort to reach her.

“You already have.” She whispered it with finality, and took that last step forward.

“Belle, please...please don't do this…” Rumplestiltskin was crying, was begging, was pleading, his foot reaching behind him to pass through the barrier. Over and over he cried out her name, Belle looking away at the last possible second. It was too late, he was over, Rumplestiltskin screaming out in pure terror. “Belle! Belle please!”

He was still calling out her, as though that would get her to use the dagger and will him back into Storybrooke. It wouldn't, it couldn't, Belle understanding that there was no way in good conscience she could let that monster back into town. That knowledge didn't make Belle hurt any less, the woman stepping forward, away from the town line. Rumplestiltskin was still there, still up against the barrier, crying and moaning, begging her not to abandon him. She'd never know how long he'd stay there before his exhaustion would drive him to give up, or IF he was even capable of it, but Belle knew that she couldn't stand around here for forever. There was nothing here but pain, and sorrow, her heart break magnified, every grating sob of Rumplestiltskin’s only making Belle all the more aware of what she had lost. Or rather, of what she had never truly had in the first place.

 

To Be continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a difference a day makes. I had like three pages of this written yesterday, but upon rereading the draft today, I saw like the last page of it was BAD. The start of it was acceptable, but the last page, you could see where the need for sleep overcame me, cause boy was that some bad writing. I am glad I didn't try to rush and finish the chapter before trying to go to sleep. This version is a million times better, at least I think and hope it is!
> 
> Not completely happy with the ending paragraph per se. Just because I tried to continue it past where I ultimately ended it. But it was stalling or my brain was breaking, and couldn't get it to flow into her trek back to town. X_X
> 
> Next chapter should be a Hook POV, and I am already debating how to go about it. I do want to have the cannon scene of Emma shoving his heart back into his chest, but with this story’s own twists. But I also want to be able to ease past the cannon scene into the first scene of Hook and Belle’s encounter after everything that’s happened. So I am hoping to work in a time skip of two or three days. There’s a specific reason I have in mind about why Hook waits that long go see Belle.
> 
> As for the inner voice of Belle’s worst self, what I have been trying to establish is, Ingrid in retaliation for Rumple trying to kill Emma/suck her into the hat, put a little something extra in the shattered sight spell that affected Belle only. Mainly a spell to make Belle suffer with her worst self bringing up all her insecurities and fears, that it would keep making her suffer and driving her to find out the truth about Rumplestiltskin. Breaking those two up is one way Ingrid thought to get payback on Rumplestiltskin. But I haven't quite figured out how I will reveal this in the actual story.
> 
> I don't have a name for this story, but have been toying around with the idea of something like Shattered Connections. But I am not sure it works for the overall idea. Then I started tossing around perhaps Shattered Hearts, Connected Souls. But again, not one hundred percent sure on that. I have such a hard time finding a name that works for me. X_X
> 
> Now to spell check and proofread….I worry this is a wonky one in terms of past and present tense. It was supposed to be Belle remembering everything right up to the point she takes hold of the dagger, and her inner evil voice leaves her. Then it switches to in the moment. But I am sure I screwed up the tenses all over the place. X_X
> 
> Laters!
> 
> \---Michelle


	8. Eight

Hook remembers the moment that he had almost genuinely smiled. Emma had been before him, his poor, abused heart held in her hands. She had handled it with the utmost in care, her delicate grip nearly causing her to drop it not once but several times. Each time that had almost happened, each time his heart had almost slipped, the color would leech from her face. Emma had looked so nervous, so worried, eyeing his heart more than Hook’s face. It was then that he had smiled, than that he had felt something that could have almost been real. It was with that smile, and with an exasperated tone, that he had advised her to just get it over with.

He had forgot to remind her to be gentle. Or maybe it was just that Emma had simply moved too fast for the words to get out. One minute she had been standing there, almost terrified of the heart that she had held in her hands, and then the next? The next she was shoving her arm forward, pushing the heart into it’s rightful place in his chest.

He had made a sound then, had fallen over with a groan. Emma’s concern hadn't yet been triggered, the woman muttering something that might have been a feeble attempt at an apology.

“I just thought if I did it quickly enough it would...”

Her words were cut off by his lips, his rough mouth pressing on hers as everything had hit him all at once. A tumultuous assault of emotions, an onslaught of feelings, Hook feeling everything from lust and despair, to fear and relief and just about everything in between. A whole week’s worth of feelings had exploded inside him, Hook almost sick with them, with the highs and the lows that he was now experiencing. He had felt everything, from his hatred of Rumplestiltskin, to the fear for his own life, to the shock and astonishment of his survival. He had felt awe and gratitude, had felt ridiculously happy to be alive. He had also felt a deep and abiding shame, Hook remembering the people he had helped hurt. He also had remembered his greed, and his manipulations, the perverse joy he had taken out of blackmailing the crocodile. 

He had also remembered the feelings of when it had all backfired, when Rumplestiltskin had switched things around. The helpless fury over being manipulated, the snarling fit of anger that had made him want to lash out. That now was ten time stronger, Hook feeling with every fiber of his being the torture that he had suffered at Rumplestiltskin’s hands.

A week’s worth of feelings and then some, Hook kisses Emma for all the time that he had been unable to. For all the times that he had had to fake warmth and emotion, pressing cold unfeeling lips against hers. But there’s a pent up frustration inside him, a hurt that doesn't have all to do with what Rumplestiltskin has done. There’s a kind of resentment burning inside Hook’s heart, the man feeling a hot burst of anger. At Emma, at her inability to figure out the truth sooner. He’s hurt by that, by her, and it isn't at all rational. The same hurt and anger, that same feeling of betrayal, doesn't stop Hook from kissing her, from pressing Emma against the wall. He kisses her like a man in need, his lips a punishing brand on her skin. She puts her arms up, sinks fingers into his hair, Emma oblivious to everything even that of the volatile mood of her boyfriend.

He rides that tide of anger, rides the frustration and even the sorrow. He passes through the spectrum of feelings, and comes up against a wall of desire. Lips soften and become more urgent against his, nails scratch at his scalp. She tries to climb up his body, actively works to help him hoist her up off the floor. Legs lock around him, and with the pull and press of them, groins brush together, Hook growling, thrusting that rigid stiffness that is his erect cock against her. She wiggles and gasps, lets out a low moan. Hook smirks, and buries his lips against the crook of her shoulder, biting at the leather jacket there. She moans again, does a writhing dance against him, the woman trapped between the pirate and the wall. She’s not complaining, is actively keening, scratching at his skin. That slight bit of pain makes him hiss, make him bite down in retaliation. She cries out and arches against him, her mouth voicing his name.

“Hook.”

He almost doesn't register the wrongness of what she has said. Almost doesn't realize that the woman has used his pirate’s name. That’s something that Emma almost never does, the woman long having seen past his pirate’s persona, to recognize the man that he was inside.

“Hook!” The woman cries out again, squirming in place. She pushes at him, tries to drive him mad with her writhing movements. The sensual glide of her sex against his, the feel of lace panties brushing against his skin, only offsets the wrongness of this encounter, Hook realizing at some point Emma’s jeans had given way to the kind of short skirts that the Dark One’s wife had liked to wear.

Hook goes as still as he can manage, which isn't much, considering how he’s rolling his hips into hers. He’s still biting at her skin, his tongue laving over the mark to get at the sweet unique taste that is all the beauty’s own. He shudders and moans, lifts his head up to see. A cascade of brown curls are before him, blue instead of green eyes staring at him. She’s moaning his name, his pirate name, and he can't seem to stop. 

“Belle..” He half moans it, half mutters it. It tears a delirious sound from insider her, the woman’s head falling back to offer up her throat to his lips. He brushes his mouth over that delicate skin, bites and sucks a mark into place over her pulse. She moans and he goes wild, his hook tearing at her panties, his hand hauling that short skirt up even higher. He presses his jeans against her exposed sex, rubs the ridge of it right against her clit. Belle cries out at that, her voice a soft needful keening that has Hook trying to drive himself inside her, jeans and all.

This lust that she makes him feel is the strongest of all that his returned heart has given him, Hook crazed with desire, his pulse pounding with his fierce need. It’s a dozen times worst than what had driven him inside the crocodile’s shop, Hook wanting Belle with a fever that was molten lava magnified. With that burning through him, Hook then cries out. For her and because of her, the man trying to shift Belle about, trying to break their connection long enough for his hand to tear his fly open.

His body works against him, works to maintain it’s grinding pressure between Belle’s thighs. She shivers and shakes, actually coos in his ear, Belle’s fingers petting an urgent rhythm over him. A rhythm that is only matched by the way the brown haired beauty moves, the way she wriggles and grinds against him, her breath nothing but shallow panting, her eyes dilated with a mounting desire. She's close, so close, and he wants to be there when she tips over. He again tries to pull back, tries to tear down his fly. Belle cries out in protest, hauls him back and writhes. 

He can't get away, he can't even try, staring in total fascination as the beauty comes apart. She moans and Belle coos, her body arching up against him, the woman wriggling in place. The urgent move of her hips, the wild way she grind against him, it’s a devastatingly sexy sight. His own breath harsh, Hook breathes in the sweet musky scent of her climax, actually wets his lips with his tongue. Belle moans at the sight of it, at his tongue and at the intent look in his eyes.  
“Mine.” He growls out at her. She can only nod in agreement, still moaning when he suddenly kisses her. His hips thrust against her, Belle nothing but a motion of sensual movements, that leave him growling for more. He wants inside her so badly, wants her like nothing he has ever thus yearned for. There’s no guilt in dreams, no reason for shame, Hook loving on Belle in a way he’s not free to in his waking hours. 

He sinks inside her with a shout, takes the time to savor the snug fit of Belle’s body around him. There’s a sweet juicy squelch of obscene sound, Belle soaked with her arousal, with both her desire and her climax, and it’s making Hook lose all pretense at control. With a shuttered groan, he starts moving, rough, wild, and intent on possessing her to the point that the beauty’s toes curl. This sweet drugging ecstasy, the wild passion of her response, it’s a poison she taps directly into his veins, making his lust for her a near insatiable beast.

Hook moans and he groans, works his hips even harder. Belle’s crying out, again and again, her sighs and her moans the sweetest of symphonies. She sings and hums against his ear, runs fingers through his hair. Hook’s moaning, growling, muttering an obscene ode to her body, to the unparalleled perfection that is Belle’s beauty. He can't seem to stop, doesn't seem to want to, and then it happens. With a mighty seize forward of his hips, with Hook’s final thrust buying him balls deep into Belle’s quivering body, the pirate starts to come. Thick gooey jettisons of seed, centuries worth of pent up desire overflowing into the beauty before him.

He groans into her skin, moans some sweet feeling sentiment that is lost to the muffled press of her flesh against his lips. The harsh panting that he does, is offset by Belle’s satisfied sigh, the woman smiling, using trembling fingers to brush back sweat soaked hair. Hook looks up at her touch, starts to smile then freezes, seeing Emma’s betrayed face staring back at him instead.

“I can explain.” He starts to say, and then jerks awake. Hook finds himself in an unfamiliar room, finds his bare body tangled up in sticky sheets. It’s not the first time that he’s woken up like this, with the sticky remains of his dream’s climax splattered on the bed. It won't be the last time either, Hook’s sure of it, the dreams becoming more and more vivid with each and every passing day. 

He groans and sits up, puts his head in his hands. Hook tries to think how many days it has been. How many days since Emma had shoved his heart back into it’s rightful place in his chest? Five? Six? Maybe even seven, time so difficult to keep track of when one has been sleeping as much as Hook has been.

His heart has needed the rest, has needed this time to recover. But it’s more than that. Hook’s been assaulted by emotions, by feelings and by memories. It’s as though his poor abused heart is determined to make the pirate relive everything he had missed out on, every single fear, every single shred of helplessness, every rare moment of hope. He’s gone through the spectrum, experienced the feelings with every memory that has been forced on him. He’s gone through several days like this, spending more time asleep than awake.

Hook can't imagine how much worst it would have been, can't imagine surviving the onslaught of feelings and memories from a time longer than a week. They hadn't been gentle, that maelstrom of experience slamming into him, hitting Hook the very second that Emma had put back his heart. Hook can remember now how he had fallen. Can remember his knees slamming into the floor, Emma screaming out his name, his REAL name, in alarm. He had tried to comfort her, to reassure Emma that none of this was her fault, but the memories were upon him, the good and the bad, the highs and the low. He had cried out, had writhed in place, Hook trying to weather the storm of his emotions. He saw everything, felt every memory, recalled every emotion. Faces swam before him, and with them came the accompanying feelings. Hate for Rumplestiltskin, guilt and frustration for Emma, an overwhelming relief over Henry’s escape, and an all consuming desire for a woman he hadn't had much thought of before all this had happened.

As much as he felt that lust for the beauty, there was also a confusion associated with the memories. A puzzle he couldn't work out. He didn't understand, didn't know why or how he had been capable of feeling anything, let alone with her. And the resulting explosion of emotions from his heart’s return, didn't let him linger long on the questions, on the doubts and concerns, the worries and the fears. There just wasn't room, just wasn't time to wonder about the present, when the past had been making itself known. Marked by it, he had lived through it all, truly lived and learned the meaning of what one’s heart was capable of.

It was glut of feeling, an embarrassment of riches, Hook unable to recall feeling this strongly or this varied in so long. He had really been through the gamut, and his heart wasn't letting him off so easily, it’s return proof that the hard part hadn't been losing it. The hard part had been reclaiming it, and the emotions that it had stored up within it.

In the days that followed it’s return, Hook had few lucid moments afforded to him. He spent too much time on his memories, too much time dreaming of a week that had been nothing but one big ordeal. It had left him worried, and it had left Emma the same too, the woman panicked by how much time Hook was spending asleep in his borrowed bed at Granny’s inn. Regina had tried to reassure her, had tried to make Emma understand that this was a normal thing. That the heart stored memories, and it stored emotions, and it was ever determined to play them both out upon it’s return.

It might not have been half so bad, if the memories hadn't been borne of such an ordeal. Almost an entire week spent hurting, spent frightened and despairing, angry and hating, and spiraling into a hopeless acceptance. The one bright spot among all that ugliness? The night he had spent with Belle. But even that wasn't without it’s downside, a kind of worry filling him, a guilt coloring the memory. It wasn't a guilt born of sleeping with Belle, it was one born of the fact he didn't truly regret it at all. 

No shame inside him, no true regret over the act, Hook still made a show at feeling guilt over the hurt he had inadvertently done Emma. Over the lie that he continued to maintain, Hook not even attempting to be honest with her, about ALL that had happened and why. He felt she wouldn't understand, that she wouldn't be able to forgive him. He was certain to lose her, Emma turning Hook away for the betrayal he had done. He wouldn't give her a chance to judge, wouldn't let Emma have an inkling of the truth so as to avoid her suspicions. He'd protect that fragile, fleeting thing that they had been making a start of, the bond that they had been attempting to forge, and he would do it with his lies.

He told himself that the lies were the ONLY way. That this was the only way to hold on to Emma, the woman he had started to hope was his happy ending. It was harder to see her as that, with the memory of what he had done with Belle echoing in his head. Just imagining her disheveled state, the lush and inviting appeal of her body, and Hook shivered anew with desire. Just that memory was enough to get him to react, and it was a million times worse with his dreams. Because Hook didn't just remember his time with Belle, he now suffered through the fantastical. These dreams tormented him in ways that the memories didn't quite manage, Hook haunted and obsessed, remembering the feel of her, the look in her eyes, the sound of her moaning voice. It lent itself to vivid imaginings, his tortured mind seeing Belle just about every time he had tried to close his eyes to sleep.  
He couldn't escape her, and Hook couldn't blame her, Belle a victim of circumstance as much as he had been, if not more. Hook knew that the brown haired beauty would have NEVER chosen him, would never have been willing to spread her thighs. She was a devoted and pure soul, the kind of woman who would have been faithful to her husband if not for the curse. She was not like Rumplestiltskin’s first wife, Milah, Belle the kind of woman Hook was certain would never lower herself to willingly rut with a pirate.

She was honorable. Maybe too much so. Hook sat up, made a move to untangle his legs from the sheets with a grimace. His thoughts were on Belle, and on the myriad of possibilities that was her reaction to her own heartbreak. Hook didn't think her the type to be vindictive, didn't think she would tell Emma the truth just to hurt her. But what if Belle deemed her reasons to be altruistic, the woman thinking Emma deserved to know the truth? Hook swore then, knowing there was a chance that Belle really would talk to Emma. He simply couldn't allow it. He had to get through to her, had to somehow make Belle see that they would all be better with the truth staying hidden.

With that goal in mind, Hook got out of bed. He'd go take a shower, go get dressed and enjoy a quick breakfast. With his heart back, Hook was more appreciative than ever of Granny’s cooking, each bite a tasty treat he would have normally savored for longer than a few seconds. Instead he hurried through the meal, actually left a bit of something on his plate. He was in just too much of a rush, the urgency of the situation, hitting him harder, Hook hurrying down the street, to where he hoped he might find the brown haired beauty, Belle.

She wasn't in her husband’s shop, but then that wasn't all that surprising. The few times he had been awake and lucid, the pawn shop had been darker than usual, it’s sign flipped over to announce the place had been closed for the foreseeable future. Belle simply didn't have the time to run it, making the library her first priority instead of the crocodile’s run down establishment of ill gotten treasure.

That library was where Hook went to now, the man hesitating just outside it’s front door. The sign there also announced the building as closed, and yet for all intents and purposes, the front doors were unlocked. Not just unlocked, they were slightly off center, the doors open enough that light from inside the library could be seen spilling out onto the street. Hook considered the sad state of the doors, then shrugged and pushed one open. A slow, protesting creak announced his arrival, Hook stepping into the library, and wondering just what had happened here.

He didn't wonder for all that long, his eyes catching sight of the woman. Of Belle, the beauty leaning against a book case, her nose buried in a book. She was frowning slightly, actually chewing at her bottom lip, intent on the words before her. From the fat heavy thickness of the tome, he could tell that it was no ordinary read, but some kind of research book. But Hook wasn't yet close enough to know just what she was researching. She also hadn't appeared to notice him, even with the noisy door’s creak heralding his arrival into her domain. It afforded him the chance to study her all the more intently, Hook taking in the sight of her dress, the short skirt just shy of being considered indecent. The length of it, and the high heels that she wore, gave Belle’s legs the appearance of going on for miles. Hook couldn't stop his admiring sigh, the memory hitting him then of those legs wrapped around him, urging him to come closer and closer.

He shook his head, made a fist with his hand. But he was remembering just how soft the woman’s thighs were, and how they had felt clenching tight around him. He then coughed into his fist, to offset the lustful sound he had almost given voice to. That cough seemed to just barely draw her attention, Belle still staring down at the book, when she muttered out an apology.

“Sorry, the library is closed.”

He couldn't keep the husky sound from out of his voice, Hook prowling closer with a smile. “That’s fine, I'm not here for the books.”

He could have slapped himself for that choice of words, Hook watching how Belle startled in place. She actually dropped the book, and for a second Hook thought that Belle would start trembling. She stared at him a moment, her lips parted slightly on an aggravated sigh. 

“Must you make a habit of sneaking in here after hours?”

“Wasn't trying to scare you.” He said instead of answering her actual question. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked so delectable even mad.

“I was not scared!” She fixed him with a withering glare at his chuckle, Belle again insisting that she had not been scared. She huffed angrily at the smile that he gave her, Hook starting to close the distance between them. She was brave, but then he had already known that, Belle standing her ground even as he drew near. At the last possible second, he knelt down before her feet, actually reached for the book that she had dropped.

He studied it’s cover, realized it was a book on dark magic, on curses in particular. He flipped it over, found it was still open to the page she had most likely been so absorbed in. He stared at the page, read the workings of the curse, then glanced up at her. It was a mistake, for from his kneeling position, he could see right up her skirt. He saw the black lace that she was wearing, saw how that flimsy scrap of material barely left anything to the imagination. Hook was caught in the spell of it, staring, imagining dropping the book, of laying his hand on her. Of laying his mouth on her, Belle’s taste a divine, delectable honey that Hook could get drunk on.

She suddenly stepped back, and the spell was partly broken. He knelt in place, gazed up at her and saw the blush coloring her cheeks. Belle knew where he had been looking, might have even realized the effect such a sight would be having on him. It was also clear how uncomfortable that made her, Belle placing one hand on her shapely hip, as she glared down at him.

“What do you want, pirate?”

He couldn't help himself. Hook smiled a depraved grin. Her color intensified, Belle backing up another step, right into the bookcase. It did the slightest of wobble, a few heavy books falling from some of the higher shelves.

“Careful.” Hook advised her, his arm holding out the tome of dark magic. “Wouldn't want to make a mess of your own library.”

She said nothing, just reached for the book. A book he abruptly pulled out of reach, Hook rising to stand. “Now for what reason could you be researching the spell that casts the curse of the shattered sight? Hmm?”

“You didn't come here to ask me about my reading choices.” Belle quickly shot back. “Now, what are you doing here, pirate? What reason did you come here?”  
“Reason?” He couldn't help doing a slow, predatory look over at her body, his gaze then settling on her lips. The dreams and the memories were one thing, but this was tantalizing reality, and Hook knew that he was about to get burned.

“Hook!” She snapped out his pirate name in a furious sounding voice. It was nothing like the dulcet tones of his memories, and yet he couldn't help himself. The pirate smiled.

“Actually it’s Killian.”

The slow careful blink of her eyes, couldn't hide Belle’s confusion. “Killian? What?”

“Killian as in that is MY name.” He told her. “As colorful and storied a moniker as Captain Hook has grown to be, I find THAT name belongs to a man I no longer wish to be.”

She was quiet a long moment. As though Belle was giving careful consideration to what he had just stated. He wondered if she was judging him, if she was deeming him worthy of the change such a name would entail. 

“Killian then.” She slowly nodded, but Belle was nowhere close to a smile. “What brings you here?”

The truth of it was on the tip of his tongue, Hook breathing out an answer. “You.”

“Me?” She was more wary than surprised, Belle eye balling him. He held up his hand and his hook, as though to show he was harmless and free of ill intention. The beauty didn't look reassured, but at least she didn't try to back up or outright run screaming at the sight of him.

“Yes, you.” He nodded slowly. “I was...I was wanting to say my thanks.”

“All right, gratitude noted. Now if you would be so kind as to hand me that book?” Belle was already trying to take the book of dark magic from him, Hook easily moving it out of her reach. She didn't try to press against him, didn't try any harder for the book. Instead Belle frowned at him, and Hook smiled his most charming expression.

It was wasted on her, Belle merely huffing in response. She then folded her arms across her chest, the toes of her right foot tapping impatiently on the carpeted floor.

“Well I suppose thanks isn't the only reason that I've come here.” He admitted, still maintaining his smile. “I've been thinking we need to have a little...talk.”

“A talk?”

“About what happened that night.” Came his clarification. She tried to stonewall him, tried to pretend that she had no idea of what he had referred to. But Belle’s blush said something all together different, Hook now certain that she remembered in vivid detail all that had transpired between them.

“It’s not something that’s ever going to happen again.” Belle stated firmly. It was a bit of a blow to his ego, Hook raising his eyebrows in mocking surprise. “It’s not.” she insisted with a growl, glaring anew at him.

“Shame.” He said in a voice that was mild compared to her angry tones. This time he held out the book to her, and let Belle take it from him. She grabbed onto it, hugged it against her chest, while eyeing him suspiciously. “But regardless of if it happens again or it doesn't, we need to talk about it.”

“Talk? I don't WANT to talk about it. I just want to...to pretend it never happened!”

“Pretend?” He gave a low voiced, arrogant chuckle. “A splendid idea if you can manage.”

“Can you?” She shot back, all fire and spirit as Belle glared at him. 

He gave careful consideration to how he MIGHT answer, but ultimately Hook realized he didn't want to hurt her. “I don't know.” He finally admitted, much to Belle’s surprise. “But I am going to have to try….”

“Why?” She asked, then colored and shook her head. “Because of Emma….” It wasn't a guess, but a statement of truth.

“I want a go at a future with her. A chance at the happy ending I couldn't get as Captain Hook.”

“And you think lying to her about what has happened, is the perfect way to start?” She asked him, and he hesitated.

“Lies don't make for a good foundation it’s true...but when you think of what the truth will destroy...”

“If Emma cares for you, she'll understand.” Belle interrupted. “She'll understand and realize it wasn't your fault. It will take time, but I am sure she will forgive you...”

“Like you forgave your husband?”

“He was never honest with me, and this is a lot different from the lives he was ruining, from the murder I caught him attempting to commit.” Belle pointed. “And besides, it’s not like you CHOSE to sleep with me. Emma will understand...she will understand but only if you tell her.”

“That’s not a chance I'm willing to take.” Belle opened her mouth as though to continue her protest, Hook speaking over her. “I'm not like you Belle. I don't have the curse to blame me for what has happened.”

She frowned. “For what has happened? What do you mean?” When he hesitated, Belle stepped forward, laying one of her hands on the sleeve of his jacket’s arm. “Killian?”

He had frozen at her approach, at the touch of her hand, Hook swearing he could feel the heat of it through the thick leather of his jacket. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to touch her hand, to lock fingers around her wrist, and pull Belle to him.

“Killian!” Belle snapped it out more urgently, and Hook gave her a lazy blink of his eyes. He debated on telling her, debating on lying, but ultimately decided the truth might gain him exactly what the pirate wanted. A small taste of it at least.

“When the Snow Queen cast her curse, my heart was already taken by your husband.” He told her. “With no heart left to feel anything, it protected me from her spell, kept the curse from taking root inside me...”

“Then why..?” Belle softly asked, trying to process what he had just said. “Then why did you…?” A shake of her head, her brown curls bouncing. “Why didn't you STOP?”

“As if you gave me a choice!” She flinched at that, Belle dropping her hand from it’s place atop his arm. “Belle, love….when you rile a man up like that...”

Stone cold eyes looked at him, Belle hardly happy with what he had said. “Fine.” she said. “So I riled your lust up! Once should have been ENOUGH for you. You should have been able to walk away at any time after! Not...not…!” She hardly seemed able to finish that thought, Belle blushing profusely.

Hook felt like he was digging himself deeper, turning away from her, to pace his agitation out on the library’s floor. She said nothing to that, nothing to his silence, Belle just watching as Hook tried to get his bearings, tried to decide what if anything he could actually say to her.

Finally, after what felt like a small eternity, he reached a decision. With a shaky exhalation of breath, with his hand scrubbing across his face, Hook growled out his answer. “Because for the first time since my heart had been taken, I had actually felt something amidst the nothingness I had been forced to endure.”

It wasn't anywhere as satisfying, to see the stunned and stupefied look on her face, Belle just standing there staring, her mouth all a gape with her shock. Hook stared at her, let her see the absolute sincerity in his face, his eyes gleaming with an intent focus that seemed to ask her just why he had felt that way. Belle stared back, and finally after a long pause, muttered a soft oh my.

Hook snorted at that. Talk about your understatement!

“What about Emma?” Belle finally thought to ask.

“What about Emma?” He countered, watching Belle squirm with her unease over this. 

“Why didn't...I mean surely you..” She was stammering, trying to find the right way to phrase it. “Surely you felt the same if not more strongly with her than with me?”

“The truth?” He asked, and received a nod for the question. “Not a blasted thing.”

Belle’s eyes were all a goggled, the beauty staring at him aghast. “Surely..” she started to say, only to change her mind. “Why...HOW could such a thing have happened?”

“I don't bloody well know!” Hook snapped, and watched how Belle recoiled at that sound. He then softened his tone, worked an apology into his voice, and asked her if she had any idea of it herself.

“Not a clue. But then, I'm no keeper of hearts.” She looked thoughtful then. “In fact, the way things stand right now, the only one left who would be knowledgeable about such a dark and invasive a magic, would be the Evil Queen herself...”

“Regina?” Hook asked, then shook his head no with a frown. “Oh no, I am not going to be asking her about this. She'd love a chance to twist the dagger into Emma’s heart...especially now with Marian in town.”

“The Maid Marian is not the problem you think she is. She’s agreed to step aside if that is what Robin really wants.” 

“Why would she do a thing like that?” Hook demanded.

“Because of love.” Belle explained. “Because of the love she has for Robin. She doesn't want to be just settled for, she wants to be CHOSEN. And he can't do that if his heart is with Regina...” 

“Still don't think I can ask her about it...” Hook muttered in reply. It earned him a shrug from Belle’s shoulders, the woman seeming to accept what he had just said. “So what will you do?” He then asked her. “About Emma.”

“I still think she deserves to know the truth...BUT!” She held up her hand to stave off his protest. “I also think it would served you both better if she would hear it from you?”

“That will NEVER happen.” Hook vowed. He saw how that frustrated her, how it made Belle’s blues eyes dim with a sadness that he couldn't completely understand. “Promise me, Belle. Promise me that you won't tell her?”

“I can promise if Emma learns the truth, it will not be from me.” Belle told him, still maintaining her sad look. 

Hook let out a breath he hadn't been aware that he had been holding. “That’s all I can ask.”

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I totally trashed the original eight, and rewrote it completely from scratch. I just really hated the first attempt, and then started cringing it upon my billionth rereading of it...It felt all wrong, Hook's thoughts were too mushy for what I want for this point of the story.
> 
> Then the rewrite turned into the chapter that didn't want to end. I ended up more than doubling the size of this! Now to go spell check and proofread!
> 
> \----Michelle


	9. Nine

She watched how her agreement had brought a smile to the pirate’s face, saw how that expression completely transformed him. It wasn't his usual kind of smile in that the pirate wasn't outright leering at her, or attempting to be charming. He was just HAPPY, a weight of honest relief to him. A relief she was the cause of, Belle’s quiet assurance bringing with it an absolute sense that all would be right in his world. That kind of belief would do nothing save to set the man up for an even harder fall, Belle knowing, knowing that secrets had a way of coming out. 

She was almost bitter about that. About that and about all of the lying that her husband had done, the secrets that he had kept about the many hurts he had inflicted. It wasn't just Belle who had been a victim, it was a whole town full of people, and she still didn't know even half of it. Her heart was too broken, Belle in too much pain to invite more to pierce into it. And so instead she had hid, hid from the town’s truth, from the people that had lived through it. 

In many ways she was STILL hiding, Belle unable to cope. She just couldn't face any more of their truths, that of the lies of her husband that they could reveal. More than that, it was the people themselves she couldn't face, everything from the pitying looks in their eyes, to the sometimes cruel sneers that bespoke of a less sympathetic soul, some people angry. With her and at her, those few but potent glares holding a kingdom’s fury to them. For the lies she had told herself, for the time she had wasted, Belle taking just short of forever to truly take note of the man, the beast, she had tied herself to.

Well aware of her folly now, but unable to avoid it, Belle hid from the people, from their pity and accusations, from their strained attempts at sympathy. She hid from the looks in their eyes, their expressions nothing more than a mirror to what Belle was feeling deep inside. The upset and the pain, an entire realm’s worth of hurt, she was brought low by her feelings of stupidity and self hatred, Belle angry, so angry and spiraling out of control. The beauty hid from the people not because she couldn't handle their disdain, but because Belle couldn't handle her OWN.

Her self worth practically nonexistent, Belle had given herself over to recriminations of shame and self degradation. She had heaped countless insults a top her own name, had actively cursed herself a love befuddled fool. The beauty had picked apart her memories, had torn through the rose colored vision she had once viewed the past with. What she had found in their remains, made Belle cringe, the woman realizing she had behaved no better than some brainwashed ninny. She had openly ignored the signs, had conveniently blocked out the memories of the blood on the clothes she had helped wash. She had forgotten about the tortures, the screams, the desperation of the people who had come to her husband to make his deals. She had forgotten about the baby, about the sound of it’s frightened wailing, and the feel of her own heart beating wildly with a fear to match and surpass it.

She had taken small moments of quiet, and had built upon them. Let herself be blind to everything but the good Belle had thought she had seen inside Rumplestiltskin’s heart. She had believed in it, believed in HIM, Belle thinking she saw a misunderstood man. One willing, capable and deserving of love. HER love, Belle devoting herself to him. Both before the curse and after, and yes it might have been even easier to fool herself when his outside looks no longer matched the beastly interior. 

Victim to a madness that she had let overtake her, Belle still couldn't find room in her heart to actually hate Rumplestiltskin. She was heartbroken and disappointed, and ever so angry. Belle was also confused and grief stricken, mourning the loss of the life she had thought that together they were about to have. She mourned more than that, felt her own life spiraling out of control, Belle missing Rumplestiltskin, or at least missing the man she had always imagined him to be.

The shattering of her faith in him had done more than just make Belle hurt and hate and be angry. It had left her LONELY, the woman finally understanding just all she had sacrificed. Friends and family, a life---an identity of her own. With every link sacrificed, Belle had climbed higher and higher, until there was nothing left to catch her, nothing there to break her fall. 

With eyes that were now opened, Belle could recognize the signs of someone else doing exactly the same. Hook, or Killian as he now wanted to be called, might not be in the same exact situation, but he was letting his lies lay down the ground work that would bring his life crashing down around him. She was sure of it, had actively tried to dissuade him from it, Belle urging Killian to be truthful with Emma. The savior would be hurt to learn of what Killian had done, but Belle was certain that Emma would be a dozen times more unforgiving if the lies were to come out in some other way.

It was his mistake to make, his bad choice to rue. She had tried and failed to convince him otherwise, and Belle had enough on her plate without taking on the problems of the pirate. She'd keep his secret, but not because Belle wanted to, but because the woman wasn't ready to be the bearer of such heart breaking news.

She wasn't ready for a lot of things, Belle abruptly looking away from Killian’s smile. It was too reminiscent of another’s, too much like that roguish pleasure and satisfaction of her most fevered recollections. It brought a crimson color to her cheeks, left Belle barely able to look at the pirate, let alone meet his eyes. It HURT to be this close to him, to be this aware, her skin tingling with the knowledge of just how his rough and calloused hand had felt touching on it. 

She shook her head to try and clear it of the memories, actually bumped her back against the bookcase behind her in an effort to step away from the pirate. It wobbled dangerously in protest, the pirate hissing out a warning to her to be careful. It happened faster than she could process, the pirate suddenly right there in front of her, his arms lifted up to shield Belle from the falling crush of books.

It wasn't the most painless of rescues. The books actually took the pirate down. He ended up on his side on the floor, an open book caught around his head, and many others laying atop his body. Belle stared for a moment, then dropped down to a crouch besides him.

“Killian!” Her hands were almost frantic, the woman starting to knock the books off of him. For once she showed no care and consideration to the tomes, Belle in a hurry to check on the pirate. He let out the deepest of groans, his hand reaching for the book that was on his head, only to then fling it violently across the library.

“That’s not the most graceful of rescues I've ever been a part of.” He muttered in a self depreciating manner.

“Have you been a part of many?” Belle asked, setting aside another book from atop him. 

“A few.” He allowed with a smile up at her. It was the same as before, the heat filling her, Belle reacting to that sensual twist of his lips. It was a genuine smile, a true showing of warmth, the pirate allowing her to see a rare unguarded side of him. “Although none can compare to the time a certain princess saved my heart from being crushed.”

“Ah.” She didn't know what to say, or how to react, Belle taking a hold of and tossing aside another two books.

“Truth be told, I am not sure what I enjoyed more. The look on Rumplestiltskin’s face, or the look on yours.”

“Mine?” she asked with some surprise. “I must have looked a fright. What with my heart in the middle of breaking and the tears that I had been trying to keep back.”

“Aye, your heart had been breaking, but you had also been so FIERCE. An avenging angel made real, salvation in one hand, judgement brought down in the other. Your eyes may have glisten, but they had also gleamed. But then they always do when you're angry.”

Her brow drew together at that, Belle making a scoffing attempt to dismiss what he was saying. “Always? As if you know me.”

“I know your anger.” protested Killian. “That emotion has been chief in your gaze each time you look at me. Can't claim I haven't rightfully earned such a look either...”

“Well you did try to kill me...” She muttered, a book in hand. “Twice in fact.”

“Aye, and I am sorry for that.” He sighed then, and brushed off the rest of the remaining books from his body. “Truly.” The pirate added. “I made you a part of my vengeance when I shouldn't have.”

Belle busied herself with gathering some of the books into a pile, the woman intent on maintaining some kind of order inside her library. “No, you shouldn't have.” She finally agreed, then bit at her bottom lip. She saw how the pirate’s eyes were drawn to that motion, the look in his eyes making her start to tremble. She let go of the books, hurriedly got up off her knees to pretend she wasn't affected, wasn't made nervous by the vivid memories of what they had done together.

“But if we're going to talk about the shouldn't have, then I am at fault too.” 

“Now what would you be regretting?” He asked her with a grin. It was a little less genuine, looking more like a flirtatious leer. Belle fixed Killian with a withering look, and nerved herself to answer, to confess to a wrong she had done HIM.

“That time on your ship.” She began with a sigh. Belle forced herself to meet his eyes with her own, to not flinch back from a truth she had denied for so long. “When you told me about her, about Milah and how she had died….”

“Ah….”

“I..I refused to believe you. Refused to accept that Rumplestiltskin could have been capable of such a thing. I should have run screaming from him, not make excuses or try to justify such behavior. I was….stupid.”

“Well I wouldn't go so far as to agree with that.” The pirate protested in a casual tone of voice. “You were in LOVE. There’s precious few who wouldn't have been blinded by that particular feeling.”

“Blinded.” Her tone was bitter then. “I truly was blind, wasn't I? Even after I knew, even after…..I kept on believing in him, saying that wasn't who he was NOW. I was back to making excuses, pretending not to see the truth right in front of me.” Belle let out a breath, and hesitated for a second. “There’s a word for a woman like me...”

“Now I don't want to be hearing you put yourself down.” His hook had touched against her lips, the man careful with it’s tip as he went to silence her. “You're not the first woman to...to become confused and fall for her captor. It’s called surviving, and making the best of a bad situation.”

She was too aware of his nearness, the pirate not only close enough to touch, but to smell, the pleasant scent of some kind of aftershave on him. It was just one more modern touch to an old fashion pirate, the man having given up his well worn leathers for the clothing of this world. He looked good that way, though a part of her very much missed seeing him in his best pirate finery.

He was still speaking. “Our history is made of such tales. Not every damsel has a prince to come rescue her.” His teeth flashed with his smirk. “And not every prince is as charming as Snow White’s.”

Belle didn't know why she did it, but she reached out to touch his wrist. He went still at that, his hook still carefully pressed against her lips, the pirate staring at her with his blue gaze unfathomably dark.

“Belle?” He said, pulling back on his hook. “Love, what is it?”

“Will you tell me?” She impulsively asked. “About all that went down, about all that HE did to you?”

Killian didn't try to play stupid and pretend that he didn't know just who she was asking about. Instead he gave her a searching look, before asking. “Now why would you be wanting to torture yourself like that?” Now it was his hand that touched her, the man cupping her cheek with it. She fought not to lean into that touch, Belle somehow managing to hold his gaze without flinching. “It’s a world of fresh hurt you'll be unleashing.”

“It’s something that needs to be heard. Something I need to face.” 

“Something to firm up your resolve against him?” Killian accurately guessed. “Love, are you fearing you’d forgive him?”

“It is not the forgiving I fear but what may result of it.” Belle blinked as though to offset her tears. “What if...what if I am not strong enough?”

“You are.” Killian insisted. “The woman I saw that night, the woman who save me, saved the world from the Dark One? She’s one and the same with the you, you are NOW.” One last touch of her cheek, before he dropped his hand to his side. “The woman you've grown into, would NEVER invite him back into our lives.”

“But…..”

“Doesn't mean you might not think of it, and rightfully fear it. But the fact that it leaves you so worried? That alone is enough for me to know you won't ever make that particular mistake again. But...” He smirked then. “If you really need the added incentive...there’s plenty of stories to be had. And not just from me. There’s a whole town full of people I'm sure are just willing to spill every dirty detail of Rumplestiltskin’s misdeeds.”

“Can I at least START with you?” She simply wasn't ready to face the rest of the town, simply wasn't ready to open herself up to their stories. But with Killian it was different, as impossible as it sounded. Despite what they had done, or maybe because of it, she felt a connection to him. It didn't mean it wasn't still incredibly difficult to look at him, to even be near him, and it certainly wouldn't help with keeping her all too vivid memories at bay. Maybe nothing would on that front. Maybe there would always exist a certain awkward kind of tension around him. 

“If that is what you truly be wishing for...”

That phrasing gave her pause, Belle realizing she didn't know what she truly was wishing for. Rumplestiltskin to have loved her more than his power, or for Belle to have never been fooled by him in the first place. Both would have spared her so much hurt, and both would have left her life drastically altered. 

“Belle?”

“It is.” She said with an abrupt finality. “I want to know EVERYTHING. So that he can NEVER hurt me again, and so that he can NEVER use me again.”

Whatever the pirate might have said in response to that was lost to the sound of the front doors creaking open. Belle reacted automatically, calling out in a firm voice that the library was still closed. She was looking at Killian as Belle said this, the beauty noticing the way HE had turned to look at the intruder. She saw the way that his eyes widen slightly, saw the way that he seemed to pale, and then he was flashing his most charming of smiles in an attempt to cover his reaction.

“Swan.” He said, stepping forward to greet the savior. “What brings you here?”

“I was hoping to find you here.”Emma Swan said in reply. Belle frowned as she turned, wondering what possible reason could Emma have had to think that Killian would be found at the library of all places. “The both of you actually.”

“The both of us!?” A puzzled Belle exclaimed, watching as Emma drew close to Killian, and gave him a quick kiss as greeting. “Why? What need could you possibly have that would require the help of both of us?”

“It’s not so much me that needs the helping but THEM.” Emma had stepped away from the pirate, to reach for something hidden inside her jacket. The small object that she brought out, was a small, fairly ordinary looking hat box. Belle frowned even more to see it, and out the corner of her eye, she noticed the tense way in which Killian had stiffened at the sight of it.

“That’s no ordinary hat box, is it….” She stated.

“It bloody well isn't!” His agitation made him snap out the words, Emma putting a calming hand on his arm. “That thing holds the Sorcerer’s hat.”

“Okay...” Belle said slowly. “So why bring it here to the library?”

“Well...” Emma shared a quick look with her boyfriend, Killian. “I know we haven't gotten a chance to talk about this...” She said to him in an apologetic tone. “But I have been thinking about how you said you wanted to find a way to free those trapped within the hat...”

“Trapped in the hat?!” Belle exclaimed, a tad excited. “You mean there is a chance they might still be alive?”

“Regina thinks so.” The savior explained. “Not that she is an authority on the sorcerer or his magic, but what she believes is that since the Dark One’s spell was interrupted before it was completely cast, the lives inside the hat haven't been expended yet.”

“So there’s a chance that they could be saved?!” Belle was looking back and forth between Killian and Emma. “That’s wonderful!”

“Only there’s a problem.”

“Of course there is.” Killian muttered gruffly. “There bloody always is.”

Emma fixed him with a look. “With Gold AND the fairies gone, there’s not many authorities on magic left to this town...Certainly there isn't one who is as familiar with the more ancient and powerful magics….”

“So not even Regina can help us...”

“Regina might not be able to, but you two can.” Emma quickly said.

“Us?!” The pirate and the princess exclaimed in startled unison. They shared a look, both their brows furrowed from their frowns.

“You two stand together as the premier authorities on ancient magics, powers even Regina hasn't dreamt of tasting. Killian, your long vendetta against the Dark One, has led you across countless realms for the last few hundred years. You've quested first hand for any and all magic that might have helped you to achieve your revenge.”

“Well I do know a thing or two about magic...” He admitted with a chuckle. “And Belle?”

Emma looked at her now. “No one is better at research than you. You've helped us time and time again, when Gold couldn't, or wouldn't lift a finger. For someone with no known magic, you are remarkably adept at finding the right spell or charm.”

“I..I suppose...” She said uncertainly, feeling an embarrassed warmth flare in response to Emma’s words. To the praising tone of the savior. It was a sad fact that Belle just wasn't used to most people acknowledging that she had worth beyond her pretty face. And it was an even sadder fact to have it be realized by Emma, by a woman Belle had helped to secretly hurt. Images assaulted her now, Belle remembering Killian, his naked body under hers, and it had been more than just sex that had seemingly betrayed Emma. It had been feelings itself, Belle in her guilt, giving herself permission to wonder for the first time, just what Killian had meant, and just what could have been the cause of a heartless man feeling so strongly, what could have made him feel at all.

She didn't dare think of herself as special. Didn't dare put herself as something more to the pirate. Their limited history had been volatile at best, and never until today, had a true kind word been shared between them. There had been no soft feelings, no warmth and affection. There had only been anger and hurt, accusations and vengeance, the push and pull of hate and loathing that would—should have never resulted in the kind of intimacy that had been enjoyed. It wasn't just sex that had happened, and it wasn't just Killian feeling. It was Belle, the woman having found herself caught in passion’s grip, every sweet kiss and tender touch a betrayal of the worst kind. Because they hadn't just been using each other, they had been enjoying each other.

She remembered every touch, every crazed and ardent kiss. Belle was mortified by the affection that they had both shown, by that wild passion that had translated into an urgency of the most desperate kind. It had skirted the edge, veered past the dispassionate fucking the beauty would have preferred. If he had used her, if she had used him, if they had both abused and degraded one another, the sex could have just been sex. And not the lovemaking it had actually evolved into.

Belle couldn't meet Emma’s eyes any more than she could the pirate’s. Because she had tasted something she was never meant to have. Had seen with her own eyes, had felt with her own body, what it felt like to be made love to by the pirate. She knew his face, Belle now knew his moans, Killian showing her the side that should have only belong to Emma. It was something precious that had been taken, something that Belle couldn't give back. She couldn't even try, the knowledge of it haunting her. Belle would forever look with guilt at Emma, would forever be burdened by the betrayal she had done the savior.

“Great!” The smile was dazzling for it’s rareness, the savior then stepping closer to Belle. Emma was already pushing the hat box into the beauty’s unresisting hands, Belle’s brow furrowing in confusion for one moment more.

“Great?” Belle echoed, looking down at the small box that she now clutched her fingers around. It was all smooth metal, a gleaming gold color with a midnight sky etched across the top most part of it. There was a small sprinkling of white stars glinting in that painted sky, but otherwise the box itself was unremarkable. Ordinary even. There was also no discernable way to OPEN it, and even folded in on itself, a hat wouldn't have been able to truly fit inside it. It was really quite strange, and that reeked of it’s magic, the box trying to hide how special it was by pretending to be anything but.

“You'll need that.” Emma was saying. “If you're going to stand any chance of solving it’s mysteries...”

“Solving it’s mysteries...” It was then that it hit her, Belle realizing Emma was assuming that the beauty had agreed to help. She couldn't think of a way to wiggle out of it, couldn't think of a reason why she would not want to help the fairies. “Fine...fine...” Belle abruptly said, clutching the box to her chest. “But I work best ALONE.”

“As do I.” Emma fixed Killian with a pointed look, the man then sighing. “Or at least I used to...” He amended with a sigh. “Sorry, still too new to this whole thing of having people I can rely on for help.”

“It’s why you get into trouble.” Emma admonished. “Trying to do everything on your own. But it’s time that you realize you don't have to be on your own anymore. That BOTH of you don't have to be alone anymore.” She had turned back to Belle now. “Gold is not here anymore to hold you back. To hold either of you back. You can finally put him in the past where he belongs, and I can think of no better way to stick it to him, then to help right his wrongs.”

“Well...” She was still hesitating, Belle casting a quick glance at Killian. She made sure not to meet his eyes, unable to bare what she might see in that bold blue gaze of his. 

Emma followed that line of sight, and sighed in response. “Look...I know you and Killian have a rough history together.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Belle muttered, and hope she wasn't starting to blush. Killian’s lips twitched with his strained amusement, but Emma didn't seem to notice.

“But he’s changed. Killian is not the same man who had once tried to kill you...”

“Twice.” Belle absentmindedly corrected. “He had tried to kill me twice...”

“I really am sorry about that.” added the man in question. “And I really do want to make amends for what I have done. For ALL I have done...” He sighed then. “Even if I was under the crocodile’s control, now that I have my heart back, their screams haunt me. Lots of things haunt me.”

She had made the mistake of looking up at that, Belle freezing in place at the intent way he was looking at her. His eyes seemed to bore into her, some kind of message attempting to convey itself between them. Belle slowly licked her lips, watched the way he focused on that nervous action. 

“They haunt me too….” She whispered out her confession. Belle saw the acknowledging look in his eyes, Killian giving the slightest nod of his head that Emma seemed oblivious to. Belle almost choked on a startled, strangled souund then, to realize the savior was JUST like her, the blissfully ignorant woman she had once been. 

The guilt hit her harder then ever, Belle breaking away to turn her back on the savior and her boyfriend. “All right.” She said in a shaky tone of voice. “For the sake of putting aside the past, and for the sake of freeing every last person trapped inside that hat, I WILL work with you, Killian.”

“You really will?!” Emma exclaimed. “That’s great! Thank you, Belle! I just know that working together you two will be able to do it!”

Belle couldn't share in the savior’s enthusiasm. Or her hope, Belle instead worrying, wondering just how she was going to survive the coming days. The possible weeks that would follow, the beauty forced to spend endless hours with the pirate. She didn't know how she was going to endure, how she was going to manage when she could barely LOOK at him without remembering. She didn't know how, but Belle also knew she was going to have to somehow TRY. 

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well..this chapter didn't go entirely like how I had imagined. First I had a real hard time getting it started, and ended up trashing like a page worth of crap. Glad I tackled the Belle POV in a slightly different angle. But also, I had imagined they would be more antagonistic to one another, but when I wrote it out, it ended up more friendly. Then when Emma came in, I had a LOT of trouble trying to write out the scene where Emma tries to get Belle to work with Killian to free the fairies and whoever else is stuck in the hat.
> 
> So I have mixed feelings about this one. X_X And no real idea whose POV it will be for the next chapter. ^^’’
> 
> Laters…
> 
> \----Michelle


	10. Ten

There was the dazzling smile of the savior, a genuine enthusiasm that was bolstered by the excited hope that shone so brilliantly in the woman’s emerald colored eyes. It was a happily determined look and just the sight of that expression sent a guilt sparking through the woman who saw it. That guilt brought with it all kinds of worries and fears, a wave of insecurity that tried to swallow Belle whole. She drowned in it, drowned in the worry, Belle wondering just what she had gotten herself into, the trouble she had just set herself up for. That trouble came with a name and it came with a swagger, Belle doing her studious best to not look Killian’s way. She still felt the weight of his stare, still felt the oppression of an unspoken question and a myriad of unfathomable feelings. 

Haunted by him, by the feelings, by everything that was left unsaid between them, Belle kept her outwards focus on Emma, the blonde haired savior still prattling away. Talking about this and about that, the many possible ways that the savior thought would help Belle and the pirate. It was a whole lot of talking, for someone who didn’t know nearly enough about magic. Suggestion after suggestion, and not many of them were viable, Emma simply too new to magic to have any real clue as to where to begin.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Swan.” Emma’s voice broke in the midst of the pirate’s interruption, the woman turning her head slightly to look at her boyfriend. “For a spell as ancient and as powerful as this one has to be, we'll need to tread it’s waters carefully.”

“He’s right.” Belle spoke up. “We can't just brute force it. Magic as powerful as this, even the good kind, has a tendency to bite back.”

“What, you mean like explode or something?” Emma asked with a frown. The disbelief in her green eyes sparked worst at the confirmation, Emma nearly gaping open mouthed at Belle’s words.

“That could very well be a possibility...” She sighed. “It could explode, and take out the whole town...”

“It might take out more than just the town.” Belle had to fight not to look his way. “With the amount of magic stored in that hat, it could probably take out a whole world...”

“No way...” Emma breathed out in shock. “Please tell me that he’s kidding...” The savior was looking at Belle when she said that.

“I wish that he was.” Belle’s tone was regretful. “But the fact of the matter is, there’s a whole coven’s worth of fairies trapped inside it. That alone is substantial, and when you factor in we don't even know who or what else has been sucked inside it...”

Emma seemed to shiver at that, as the understanding truly dawned inside her. “Okay, so we need to take it slow...”

“That would be best.” Belle agreed. “Don't worry Emma...if there is a way to set them free of this hat, we WILL find it.”

“You just have to have faith, love.” added Killian.

“Faith...It’s just not something I have had a lot of.” admitted Emma. The bright green of her eyes seemed to dim with those words, Belle wondering just what Emma was thinking of now. “Especially when it comes to people….” She gave a smile to her boyfriend then, Emma making a valiant go at cheering up. “But I am starting to see...it’s not that the world lacks it, it’s that I put my faith, my trust, in the wrong people..,”

Those words were spoken innocently enough, but wreaked a havoc on Belle’s insides. On her guilt, Belle staring startled at Emma, at the look in her eyes. It was a kind light, a warm look, Emma seeming to blush. It transformed the blonde, made her seem several years younger, as the woman lost her hard edge, to betray a shy, vulnerable side to the pirate.

It practically killed Belle to see, the woman putting herself in place of the savior. Remembering a time when she too had blushed, a similar look on her face as Belle had given one man in particular all of her trust. He had smiled and swore to protect her, had laid claim to a promise to never lie to, or to hurt her. Belle had clung to that promise, to the truth as she had once seen it. She had let herself be blinded, love making Belle a fool.

She didn't want to see the same happen to Emma, didn't want that tenuous trust she was starting to build, the faith that the savior was starting to have in people, be destroyed by their lies. The truth wouldn't spare Emma from a world of hurt, wouldn't stop her faith from being shaken. But it also wouldn't leave her a broken mess. In that regard, Emma was a whole lot stronger than Belle, the blue eyed beauty certain that the woman and her relationship with the pirate would survive. But only if Killian would do the right thing, and tell Emma the truth HIMSELF. 

It was a truth that they would all stand to benefit from, and the sooner it was told the better. Belle knew the devastating effects of secrets, and of lies, knew that even one born of omission, hurt and did damage. She was also aware of the time counting down, every day, every hour, dwindling closed the window of opportunity for the truth to be revealed. The longer Killian kept this secret, the more time he wasted trying to hide from what he had done, the less forgiving it stood to reason that Emma would be. Of the pirate, and of the sexual mishap, Belle fighting not to blush, to not give in to the memories that lingered ever near. Of hot kisses and even hotter intentions, Belle remembering his smile, and the way that he had moaned endearments against her skin. 

Nothing good would come of remembering, of dwelling on the look in his eyes, and the way that Killian had felt when moving inside her. Of wondering just why the pirate had said and done the things that he had, Belle no closer to understanding his reasons now than she had a week ago. And from the sounds of it, Killian didn’t know any better than she, the man seeming almost frustrated at what his complete lack of heart had still allowed him to do. To FEEL.

There was not much known about the magic and repercussions of taking another’s heart. Not much known beyond a few basic facts. Belle knew that the heart was key, a life and death struggle made real in the hands of the one who held it. With another’s command over your heart, you were rendered into their slave. A heartless, unfeeling puppet who danced to their master’s whims. Completely under control, a person whose heart had been taken was little better than a body without it’s soul, no feelings, no desires within you. By all rights, Killian shouldn't have felt anything, shouldn't have felt anything beyond the most basic of needs. 

It was a whole lot of new complications that the pirate had dumped in their laps with this morning’s reveal. It had left her beyond shocked, Belle having spent the past week’s worth of time wrongfully assuming that the pirate had still had his heart on the night of the curse. To know that he hadn't, to know that he had come to the shop while not affected by the curse of the shattered sight, it twisted new layers into the mix, and somehow made the situation worse.

It left her even more conscious of the pirate, Belle aware of his every breath, his every sound. She burned with the temptation to sneak a peek at him, but fear and a good amount of guilt kept her gaze firmly rooted in it’s focus on the savior. Emma was still looking at Killian, still wearing that trusting smile. It was an unguarded moment for the blonde, the woman letting not only the pirate but Belle see this side of her. She felt absolutely miserable to bear witness to it, Belle knowing she hadn't done anything deserving of such a show of trust. Quite the opposite in fact, an embarrassed warmth blazing inside of her, Belle fidgeting in place. That nervous motion drew the savior’s attention to her, Emma still smiling.

“Sorry.” She muttered it almost sheepishly. “Didn't mean to get all emotional on the both of you.”

Belle choked on a sound, a kind of awkward laugh locked in her throat. “Please, don't apologize for it.” She saw motion out the corner of her eye, Belle glancing Killian’s way to see his head bobbing in a nod.

“I find it quite refreshing actually.” He would state with a cheeky kind of grin. Belle felt the heat hit her hotter at that expression, but luckily Emma didn't notice, the woman too busy punching a fist against the pirate’s arm.

“Come on.” She said. “It’s not THAT rare an occurrence.”

“Given the wall that you've put up, and how long it’s taken me to make a crack in it’s mortar? Well that leaves plenty of room for debate.” He argued. “Still...these moments of sentiment are coming quite a bit more often. A fact I am both glad for and grateful about.”

Emma’s blush was back, the woman gazing at the pirate with such a tender look that it made Belle uncomfortable. It wasn't yet love, the pirate and the savior simply too new to whatever it was they were building. She wondered just where things stood between them, how deep a connection that they had, given that the pair had only been an official couple for little over three weeks. She didn't once wonder if they were strong enough to survive, Belle already knowing that the pair had weathered their fair share of hurdles together. 

“What doesn't kill you will make you stronger.” Belle hadn't realized that she had spoken that thought out loud until both the savior and the pirate had turned to her, the beauty then blushing. “Sorry...”She muttered with embarrassment. “It’s just a lesson that I've needed reminding of, of late.”

“I'm not just a firm believer in that, I'm living proof!” Emma declared, grinning at Belle. 

She slowly nodded in turn. Belle might not be privy to every detail of the hard life that Emma had had to endure, but she saw enough to know that the savior’s tough personality had to have been forged by some pretty harsh fires. But for all her rough edges, Emma was a good person, an honorable woman. She was the kind of friend Belle would have loved to have had, and it was with a misty eyed realization, that the beauty acknowledged that she had probably ruined all chance of that happening.

“Hey...” Emma’s smile had given way to concern, the woman approaching Belle. “Just keep reminding yourself of that, and you WILL get through this. You won't just survive, you'll be better off without him.”

Emma wasn’t the type to give out random hugs, the woman instead touching her hand to Belle’s arm in a show of support. Belle gave her an attempt at a smile, felt the alarming fact of her tears slipping down her cheeks. “I’m….I'm sorry.” Belle said, and she meant it.

Emma misunderstood, but then Belle couldn't blame her, the savior kept completely in the dark. The blonde haired woman just made a soothing sound, fumbling in her jacket’s pocket for a napkin of some sort. Over her shoulder, Belle caught Killian’s eyes. He was staring at her with an intent focus, and did a subtle shake of his head no. She could only give him an acknowledging shrug back, Belle murmuring softly to Emma.

“I am so sorry.” She said, even as she took the tissue from Emma’s hand. “For all that I---for all that Rumplestiltskin has done.”

“It’s not your fault.” Emma insisted. “You're not responsible, especially not for any of his actions.”

“She’s right, love.” Killian spoke quickly. “The crocodile made his own choices.”

“Choices...” Belle blinked rapidly in an attempt to stave off the worst of her tears. “He chose his power over everyone….even over ME.” 

Emma was starting to look a tad uncomfortable. “Er...” She glanced at Killian as though the savior thought the pirate could somehow help.

“I'm sorry.” Belle said again. “It’s still too fresh a hurt.” She used the tissue to dab at her eyes, Belle making an effort to stop crying. “I don't mean to hold you hostage to my blubbering.”

“It’s fine.” Emma quickly said. “You're entitled to be upset.”

“You're even entitled to cry over him, though why you would want to give that bastard the satisfaction….”

“Killian!” Hissed Emma with a glare. Now he was the one shrugging, the pirate completely unapologetic.

“Sorry, I just need a moment. Could you come back later? Or even tomorrow?” Belle asked, crumpling the soggy tissue with her fingers.

“It might be best to get a fresh start on a new day.” 

“But the sooner you two get started...” Emma began to protest.

“The hat’s not going anywhere, and neither are those trapped inside it.” argued Killian, and now he made an attempt to stifle a wide yawn. “A few hours won't make much of a difference, and besides, I think I am in need of a nap.”

“Another nap?” Emma asked with a frown. “Are you sure that is normal?”

“My heart’s apparently not yet done with making it’s return known. It’s inconvenient, but I am sure in another day or two, I will be as right as rain.”

“I still think you should go to the hospital.” grumbled Emma.

“What’s going on?” Belle asked, looking back and forth between the pirate and the savior. She said it at the exact moment that Killian barked out a retort.

“Swan, it’s my heart, not my body that is afflicted.” She seemed to recoil at that, Killian then softening his tone. “Regina’s already tried to reassure you. It’s just a symptom of having my heart returned after existing a week without it.”

“You were without your heart for a whole week?!” Belle exclaimed, aghast. She hadn't known, hadn't begun to guess at just how long the pirate had been in her husband’s thrall.

“Worry not, a week is just a drop in a bucket compared to the centuries that I've lived.” Killian told her with a smile. He then looked at Emma. “Swan, I would know if something was wrong with my own body.”

“Famous last words...” Emma shot back, and grabbed him by the arm. “If you're going to sleep you can do so while under observation at the hospital.”

“It’s just a waste of everyone’s time...” Killian protested, as Emma began trying to manhandle him towards the library’s front door. Such was the savior’s determination, that Killian stumbled a step after her, the man dragged unwillingly to his fate. He cast a glance back at Belle, and ordinarily the beauty might have giggled. But the worry was upon her, Belle’s concern showing in her eyes as she gazed after the pirate and the savior.

That worry remained even after the pair was gone, Belle standing there rooted in spot, thinking far too many thoughts. There was too many questions, and not enough answers, and Belle didn't know the half of what the pirate was going through. But it worried her all the same, the woman wondering just what it meant to not have a heart, and what it felt like to have it returned. But more than that, she was back to wondering just what it all meant, what the significance was of his ability to feel when the pirate had been without a heart. Most of all, she wondered why it had happened when with her, Belle’s ever curious mind brimming with speculation.

But it was a speculation not grounded in facts, Belle simply not knowing enough about the workings of the heart and it’s magic. But she thought there might be a way to amend that, Belle abruptly turning, heading to the back of the library. To the rows upon rows of bookcases that held most of the town’s accumulated knowledge on all things magic. It was an impressive sight, and one that had only grown, Belle having added to the collection by taking many fat and heavy tomes of ancient and arcane knowledge from Rumplestiltskin’s shop.

 

She stared at the high shelves, and had not a clue where to begin. Not with the heart magic, Belle not even certain her library had ANY books about such a thing. But she was determined to try, to search through each and every book, and it wasn't just to satisfy her curiosity. Belle had a burning need, a desperation to understand, the woman wanting to know how it was possible for things to have warped so out of control on the night of the curse. The books wouldn't help her with gaining an understanding of her own actions, but maybe just maybe, Belle would find something that would put her mind at ease about the pirate’s side of things.

With a new found determination, she fetched the rolling ladder, and began climbing up its rungs. The more dangerous books were kept on the highest of shelves, out of reach but not out of sight. She reached for one now, feeling the worn leather texture against her fingertips. It was an old book, and it’s yellow parchment crinkled with the sound of it’s age. Belle carefully situated herself a top the ladder, and began paging through the book.

The words written there were scrawled out with a painstaking slowness, someone doing their best to have a neat and steady hand. It was also decidedly not in English, not in any language Belle was intimately familiar with. She could make out a few words, but it would take time for her to decipher the full text. But then, most of the older books were like this, Belle feeling frustrated at the amount of work it would take to be able to read through them. She still scanned through the pages, still kept a careful eye out to see if the word for heart popped up in any of the entries. 

She found nothing that could hint at the knowledge that the beauty was seeking. She let her frustration mount, felt the impatience curl through her, Belle becoming careless in her own desperation. The yellowed paper tore, a page accidentally ripped from the book. Belle gasped in dismay, made an attempt to catch at the page that was fluttering slowly to the floor. Her fingers caught around it, heard the crinkle as they crushed it, Belle then grabbing at the ladder for support. It wobbled in place, the wheels putting it into slight motion, the room starting to sway around her. It left her dizzy, Belle trying to hold onto the ladder. There was the thump of several books hitting the floor, Belle trying to hold on, to reach out to the bookcase as if that could somehow stop the ladder’s wobbling movements.

It didn't. With a wild shriek, Belle was suddenly falling, the room spinning fast around her, the woman hurtling past shelves and shelves of books. She closed her eyes shut, as if that could somehow block out the impact that was coming. But it was not the floor that she hit, but a solid mass of manly flesh, Belle feeling a strong pair of arms go around her. She inhaled, choked on her gasp, a wild thought in her, a memory of another time, another fall, and Belle knew, knew that it couldn't possibly be Rumplestiltskin. Especially when her savior groaned, the man struggling to keep upright. He couldn't, falling over, and taking her with him. 

Together they ended up on the floor, Belle clutched against a man’s body. She still hadn't opened her eyes, still hadn't dared to try, and Belle wasn't sure what she was hurting more from. The fall, or from the memory it had triggered, Belle fighting not to think of him, to not remember that time at the dark castle, when a fall had landed her in Rumplestiltskin’s arms.

“Bloody hell.” A voice groaned from beneath her. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

The voice wasn't at all familiar, a fact Belle was almost grateful for. It pushed back her memory, though it couldn't eradicate the specter of Rumplestiltskin completely. Maybe nothing could. Maybe that monster was her mistake to regret for every day of the rest of her life. She didn't know and Belle didn't particular bother to care in the moment, the woman just so grateful her fall had been safely broken.

“Th..thank you.’ She started to say, opening her eyes. The man wasn't looking at her, his eyes closed as well. He seemed to be in pain, wearing a grimace that Belle felt guilty for causing. “Thank you so much...” She attempted to say, and slowly, his eyes opened, and he lifted his head. She felt a jolt of reaction go through her, Belle’s lips parted on a shocked breath. He was doing no better, an equally shocked look in his eyes that left him looking a little dumbfounded. 

For one moment, neither of them spoke. They just stared, Belle noting that the dark haired young man looked a whole lot different, a whole lot nicer when he wasn't drunk and unconscious on her library’s floor. It still didn't stop her from hissing, Belle shrugging to get free.

“You?!” 

Briefly his hold on Belle tightened, the man seeming loathe to let go of her. She pushed the flat of her palms against his chest, and wriggled free in a hurry. He sat up when she did, Belle pressing her back against the troublesome ladder. 

He still hadn't taken his eyes off of her, the man touching his hand to his chest with a grimace. “Erm...I'm here to see the librarian at the sheriff’s insistence.”

Belle’s brow drew together, the woman frowning at his words. “The sheriff made you come?”

He nodded. “I'm to do my civic duty. Pay back for my...misdemeanor by assisting the librarian for a few days...any chance that would be you?”

She didn't outright answer. “That depends. Are you through with breaking and entering, and stealing books from the people?”

“Hey now, it was a one time thing.” He sighed at her disbelieving scoff, the man then amending. “All right, make that two...Suppose you'll be wanting me to fix the doors that I broke.”

“It’s a start.” She agreed, and started to use the ladder for support to stand. It rolled out from beneath her hand, Belle wobbling unsteadily onto her feet. The man caught her again, and kept Belle from ending up flat on the floor. She blushed in embarrassment, the man drinking in the sight of her flustered face.

“That thing’s bloody well dangerous,” He noted in a calm tone.

“I'm starting to realize that.” she muttered, then blushed harder. “Thank you...again.”

“No problem, always a pleasure to help out a miss.”

“It’s missus actually, though not for much longer.” Belle told him. At the questioning look in his eyes, she sighed. “It’s quite a long and complicated story...”

“According to the sheriff, I've got the time.” He didn't smile, instead with an unblinking intensity, the man offered the following. “Besides I like stories.”

“I'm not surprised to hear that, given your penchant for stealing books.” Belle stepped away from him, and almost giggled. “But you know, you didn't have to go that far. This library is for everyone, and it’s absolutely free to come BORROW a book.”

“Borrow, eh?” He looked to be considering it carefully. “And how would one go about doing that?”

“Well...” She gave him a slight smile. “You can start by telling me your name.”

“My name?”

“You do have one, don't you?” Belle asked.

“Of course I do.” He had straightened and stood taller, still watching her carefully. “Will Scarlet, at your service, miss….?”

“Belle,” She told him. “My name is Belle.”

“Well bruises and all things aside, I can say it is a pleasure to be making your acquaintance.” A smile was hinting at his lips, the man, Will Scarlet looking like he was out of practice with such an expression. That little attempt at a smile had a transformative effect on his face, Belle realizing that Will didn't look quite so degenerate when sober and awake.

“Well Will, what say we get you set up for a library card, so you can start BORROWING some books?” She asked, smiling brightly at him. There was few things she loved more than books, the reading of them, but also the sharing of them, Belle excited to be able to help another be introduced to the wonderful worlds hidden inside her library. There was not enough people in this town who could be bothered, the modern world with it’s television and Internet proving more tempting than straight out reading. 

She got another attempt at a smile, that expression looking just a little more at ease. He really did seem to love books, and Belle found that she could no longer begrudge him for trying to steal. It didn't mean she wouldn't abide by the sheriff’s decree, that she wouldn't put Will to work around the library. But it didn't seem like the burden she would have once suspected, Belle smiling even more as she wondered if this was the chance to finally make a real friend.

 

To Be Continued….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really like this chapter. It gave me nothing but trouble. I had over a 1000 words written, and realized it was crap and had to start it over from a slightly different angle. Originally I was trying to skip to nighttime, with Belle unable to sleep and going to the library to look up research books. So I imagined she'd fall at night and Will would be there to catch her. But I never got that far, and the reason why she fell at night was far more convoluted, and I am glad I tried everything from a different angle, so it works so much better for me. But I still don't like the chapter.
> 
> It also turned into one that wouldn't want to end. I was practically ready to scream in frustration when Belle kept getting chatty as I was struggling to find an ending line. Still not sure I did good on that front either. X_X
> 
> \----Michelle


	11. Eleven

There were research books scattered all across her desk, many of the most ancient of the tomes existing in various states of crumbling decay. She felt almost frightened to handle them, the books looking as if they would fall apart if Belle so much as breathed on them. She wouldn't let that fear stop her from opening the top most book, Belle looking down at the words—the runes whose glowing silver and blood red inks, practically dared the viewer to try and speak them out loud. She didn't have any magic of her own, but Belle had been around enough enchantments to recognize a compulsion spell cast on this particular book’s pages. It called to her, actually beckoned Belle to speak, and more than once did the beauty find herself trying to read out loud an inscription.

With a shake of her head, and a harsh scoff of her voice, Belle eased the book closed. She was going to need a good deal of water and salt, the book’s enchantment simply that strong. Belle wondered if a book as old as this, could even survive a good salt water dousing, or if she was going to have to reach out to Regina for help. It wasn't exactly something that Belle was leaping at the chance to do, the former evil queen and the princess having a bit of a rough history together. One that almost made Belle want to ignore the fact that Regina might be the only one left in Storybrooke who was not only capable, but knowledgeable enough to break the book’s compulsion spell.

Certain that the book must guard one hell of a secret, Belle set it aside for later consideration. She then opened a less powerful book, one that didn't seem to have any sort of protective measures placed on it. It also wasn't in English, but then that wasn't too big a surprise. Most of these books weren't, almost as though by design, and Belle held back a sigh at the work it would take to decipher them. The woman wasn't sure that she was up for the challenge, but Belle also felt that there wasn't much choice in the matter. The fairies lives were dependant on Belle’s successful endeavors, Blue and her coven and anyone else that might have been sucked into the hat, needing a rescue. Though maybe a miracle was a more apt word for what was needed.

Miracle or rescue, Belle saw no point in wasting time on getting started. She brought out a large notepad from inside the desk, Belle flipping it open to a blank page. With a ball point pen in her hand, Belle began frowning down at the ancient book on magic, slowly trying to decipher the first of the paragraphs. Her pen hand began moving, the soft scritch scratch of it’s inky nub marking the start of a translation attempt on the notepad’s paper.

Intent on the words, she almost missed the thump of sound, almost missed the way the desk rattled in protest. But there was no missing the voice, Will Scarlet letting out a satisfied sound to have set down another weighty pile of books.

“There.” He said with a nod. “That’s the last of them, eh?” 

She did a quick count of the books, Belle knowing right down to the exact number just how many books the library had accumulated when it came to magic’s research. Seventy two, and not a single one was missing, the woman smiling her approval. 

“Thanks again Will. You've been a big help.” And she meant it. Not only had he fixed the library’s front doors so that they no longer creaked a loud noise when pushed open, the man had insisted on fetching the books down for her. That last made her feel indebted to him, Belle hardly having been eager to get back up on the rolling ladder for ANY reason. Not even one as important as the help the books could possibly have offered. 

He shrugged off her gratitude with an embarrassed look. “Nonsense. Just doing my civic duty.”

“Still, it’s appreciated all the same.” She told him, Belle actually enjoying the flustered way he seemed to react to any type of her praise. He didn't disappoint, Will making a show of looking at one of the topmost books in the tallest of stacks.

“Awful lot of magic for any one person.” He commented. 

“Well I was married to the Dark One...”

“Was?” He questioned sharply.

“AM.” She hastily corrected, but not without her heart letting loose with a fierce ache. Belle didn't know it, but her expression dimmed with her pain, the woman muttering more to herself than Will Scarlet. “Really need to see about getting that fixed.”

“Nothing a good lawyer won't be able to take care of.” He told her. “And with the Dark One not here to contest it, why you could even get the whole union annulled.”

“Annulled.” Belle hesitated. Is that what she really wanted? To render the union invalid? To pretend it had never happened, that HE had never happened? But her memories wouldn't let her go that far, Belle unable to forget the details of her time spent with Rumplestiltskin.

It was worst than just remembering. She saw the past with new eyes, appreciated the truths Belle had once blinded herself too. With eyes that were wide open, with a heart that was hurting, Belle couldn't shake free of the memory of him. Of the beast that he was, and of the man she had wished him to be.

Her upset must have been easily read in her reaction, Belle wondering what kind of expression she gave Will. “Ah sorry.” He said in an awkward tone. “Didn't think things through before speaking.”

“No, it’s fine.” Belle insisted, but she was looking back down at her notepad. “Besides, it’s something I really need to start considering...”

“Ah.” Just a syllable of sound from him, Will otherwise quiet. Belle continued to read over what she had thus far attempted to translate, but her mind made a muddle of things, the blue eyed beauty unable to concentrate.

“Say Will...” She fidgeted in her seat, her fingers playing with the ball point pen. She got black ink on her skin, Belle focusing on the sight of that darkness staining her fingers’ pale tips. “Did you...uh….did you ever have any dealings with the Dark One?”

There was a moment’s silence, Will giving it careful consideration. “No.” He said at last, and Belle didn't know if she should be relieved or disappointed. “Can't say that I have. Though I have had my run ins with a few nearly as powerful as him.”

“Someone nearly as powerful as him?” Belle looked up at that. Her curiosity got the best of her, Belle wide eyed as she breathed out a single word. “Who?”

“Don't think you would know them.” Will stated. “Not unless you've been to Wonderland...”

“No I haven't. But then there’s a lot of places I haven't been too.” She felt the bitterness creep into those words, Belle abruptly looking back down.

“Don't think you're missing much by never having been to Wonderland. That place is madder than a hatter, all topsy turvy, and dangerous too.”

“It couldn't be all that bad...” Belle protested. “Or else...”

“Or else what?”

“Or else you wouldn't miss it so much.” Her tone was soft, Belle risking a glance up to pin Will with her gaze. He was staring at her, his expression unreadable, the young man guarded in a way that seemed worst than anything Emma Swan had ever shown her.

“What makes you think I miss anything about that place?” He finally asked in a tone that was careful to not betray his feelings.

“Would you believe in a woman’s intuition?” He shook his head no at that, Belle not quite managing to hide a smile. “Well then consider it my eye for details.” She said. “That FIRST Time you broke into the library? Do you know what I saw?”

“A book thief?”

“Well aside from that.” She might have laughed if the conversation wasn't feeling so serious, if Will Scarlet wasn't looking at her with so intent a focus. “I saw a book in your arms...a book you were clutching at for dear life. A book about a little girl’s adventure in a land called Wonderland.”

“That could just be a big coincidence.” He protested quick enough.

“It could.” She agreed, and took a chance. “But Will? It could also mean you were feeling nostalgic, about a land that you miss very much. Of course….” Belle continued in a much brighter tone. “Maybe I am completely wrong, and you just grabbed a book at random.”

He stared at her for the longest of times, to the point Belle started to feel doubt. And then Will was slowly nodding his head, breathing out an agreement. “Ah I was missing something...” But he wouldn't clarify what that something was, not even at the beauty’s attempts to pry. And though he stubbornly refused to say any more on the subject, Belle found she did not mind his keeping a secret. It wasn't as though Will owed her his life story, and it wasn't as though the man was under any obligation to satisfy her curiosity. But most of all, Belle didn't know him, so she didn't take his secret keeping as a personal insult or as a danger to her.

It didn't stop her from wondering, and she welcomed the distraction that her curiosity about Will Scarlet afforded her. It was wonderful to take a break from the memories that haunted her, the mistakes and regrets, the sins and the secrets. For a few brief minutes she was free, Belle no longer drowning in guilt, or in shame, no longer thinking about Rumplestiltskin or the pirate.

She might have continued on in this blissful state of being, but then Will asked her a question. “Just what sort of magic are you looking for with these books?”

Her gaze turning troubled, Belle looked back down at her notepad. “Oh, several things, all having to do with righting my soon to be ex-husband’s many wrongs.”

“That’s very vague.” He noted, but his tone wasn't complaining. It wasn't much of anything, Will waiting, as though he had all the time and the patience in the world.

She sighed as though defeated. “Well mostly…? I need to find a way to free the faeries and anyone else that has been imprisoned inside a hat.”

“A hat?”

“It’s another long story.” She muttered, then tried to stave off his questions. “And it doesn't make for half as interesting a read as any one book in this library.”

“Ah...right.” He said. “You don't want to talk about it...”

“It’s just too hurtful a story...” Belle whispered. “And I'm nowhere near ready….”

“Ah right. Well far be it for me to force anyone, let alone lady, to speak about something so painful….” She flashed him another look of gratitude. “Is there anything else I can do?” He than asked. “I mean before you close up the place for the night?”

Belle shook her head no. “Can't really think of a thing. Not used to having help here.”

“Well you'll need to come up with a bit more than the door and these books, or the sheriff won't consider my civic duty done.” But he didn't sound particular troubled by that.

“Just how long a sentence of service were you given?” Belle asked. 

“Not a clue.” Will confessed with that odd attempt at a smile. He was doing it more and more, and each time his mouth seemed to grow more at ease with that attempted expression. “But then, I suspect the sheriff thinks I'll do something else to add on to it, so why bother setting a limit….”

“But you won't.” Belle said it in a firm tone. “I'm sure of it.”

“And now why you be so sure about something like that?” questioned Will. “Is this more of your attempt at a woman’s intuition?”

“Oh no, not at all.” Belle gave him a sweet smile. “But if I hear about you stealing, I will revoke your library card!”

He did a slow blink of his eyes, then attempted a mock horror. “No.” He breathed out. “Anything but that!” She just maintained her smile watching as he squared his shoulders. “You think you have me all figured out...and so fast!”

“Not at all.” protested Belle, then at his look she amended her statement. “Well...not for everything, I don't. But I do recognize when something is a proper motive, and for a man as fond of his books as you so clearly are, why you'd hate it if I barred you from the library.”

“Yes. I would hate to be denied my reason for coming here.” Another intent look, and for a second Belle could have sworn he was talking about something other than the books. But that had to be crazy, Belle certain her tired and stressed mind was reaching at shadows, latching onto the first, unattached body to come along. She wasn't looking for companionship, but Belle WAS lonely, wanting—needing a friend. Almost desperately so. Will had the potential to fit that role quite nicely, the woman acknowledging to herself that he was one of the rare few in town that seemed to have no connection to Rumplestiltskin. 

He was also not a reminder of her mistakes, of her secrets and regrets, The pirate and Emma might make an effort towards her, but right now Belle couldn't bear their attempts at friendship. She especially couldn't bear Emma, the brown haired woman feeling an immense amount of tortured guilt every time she look at the savior, each time she so much as thought about her. She felt the guilt, and she imagined the hurt and disappointment that Emma would wear, Belle certain the blonde haired woman would never again have a friendly of even kind word to give her. She couldn't even blame her, Belle knowing the wrong she had done Emma, the hate she had given the savior a reason to feel. She'd never be able to truly make it up, never be able to apologize enough for Emma to forgive her. And the worst part was that Belle wasn't sure she was in any way deserving of the savior’s forgiveness and understanding.

Her mood which had been marginally lifted by her banter with Will, now took a sharp plummet, Belle letting out a sigh. Thoughts of Emma inevitably led her down a messy trail, Belle thinking of the pirate, and of a passion fueled night that had happened not too long ago. It made for a train wreck of thoughts, Belle unable to stop worrying, remembering, and it wasn't just Killian, but the hate that had driven her. A hate that had made her want to hurt Rumplestiltskin, a hate that had Belle spiraling into a downward depression as she then found her thoughts sliding into familiar patterns. Her heart hurt with those feelings, with the pain and sorrow of her heartbreak. Belle fought to control her expression, to hide the dark mood that had overtaken her. 

“Right well...” She spoke with forced brightness, Belle starting to rise up out of her seat. “Just stay on the right side of this town’s laws...”

“You want me to walk the straight and narrow, eh?” Will made an odd sound that Belle realized was his awkward attempt at a chuckle. “Well I am up for the challenge.”

He held out his hand to her, Belle looking at it a second before dutifully taking hold of it. His fingers sealed around hers, Will again doing that unnatural smile. She felt a tingle of something, the start of some uncertain feeling, Belle blinking repeatedly as she stared at Will Scarlet. 

“I think you've had enough of magic and research today.” He said in a confidant tone. 

She hadn't come close to making a dent in all that was needed, and Belle opened her mouth to tell him just that. But Will was already tugging her to follow him towards the library’s doors, the man attempting to speak over any protest she might have attempted to make.

“A tired mind won't decipher those texts any faster.” stated Will. “Anymore than a hungry stomach can aid in one’s concentration. You need to go home and get some rest, but before that, I think you should come get a bite to eat.”

“Are you inviting me out to dinner with you?” Belle asked with a suspicious undertone to her voice. He paused, and gave her that unreadable focus, Will asking a question of his own.

“Would you actually consider it if I was?” She must have hesitated too long, Will resuming tugging her out of the library. “Right. So I'm NOT asking.” But he didn't let go of her hand, and barely paused long enough for Belle to lock up the library. He had a determined glint in his eyes, a kind of single minded focus that soon saw Belle sitting across from him in Granny’s diner. 

This near to the diner’s closing hour, saw very few people inside it. This late evening crowd saw only the most introverted and loneliest of souls, everyone else either at home with their family, or out on the town, enjoying what passed for Storybrooke’s limited night life. 

Certainly, aside from Granny, there was no one particularly familiar to Belle inside the diner. Which was a relief, Belle not sure she wanted to invite the questions that being seen with Will would bring. Any more than the woman wanted to give the town’s gossips reasons to wag their tongues, Belle certain some people would savor the idea of the beauty moving on in roughly a week’s time.

It still left her in kind of daze, Belle feeling the faint stirring of heat on her skin, the blush only blooming worse when she realized Granny had been asking her a question for more than a minute now.

“Uh...what?” Belle asked, blinking rapidly as she looked at Granny. The older woman sighed, and wrote something down on her notepad.

“I'll just put you down for your favorite.”

“Favorite?” Will asked after Granny had walked away to fill their orders. “And what is that?”

“Cheeseburgers.” She said. “It used to be cheeseburgers.”

“USED to be?” He questioned with a sharp, observant tone.

“Well they used to hold a special memory for me.” Belle admitted.

“And now?” 

But she just looked down at the table, unable, unwilling to share. She didn't want to talk about Rumplestiltskin, she didn't want to even think about him, and Belle certainly didn't want to remember a happier time. Of cheeseburgers and first dates in this very diner, Belle giggling as Rumplestiltskin had made a face, attempting to bite down on his burger without the cheese and condiments oozing out all over him. That time Granny had shown her disapproval, by slathering on enough ketchup and cheese, so that it had been impossible for Rumplestiltskin to not make a mess. The woman had even smirked down at him as she faked an apology over her cooking ruining his expensive suit’s jacket. Rumplestiltskin had shrugged it off, played at it like it was only a minor inconvenience, the man on his best behavior while in front of Belle.

Now she wondered what else he had played at, the feelings that he had covered up, the man waiting, seething with rage and looking for an opportunity to strike back. Most of all she wondered what if anything Rumplestiltskin had done to Granny, Belle now unable to imagine the man letting any such insult slide without a retaliation of his own.

The smell of a freshly cooked cheeseburger sliding before her made Belle’s stomach turn. She stared down at the burger, and took to counting the individual seeds on it’s bun, desperate to keep from bolting, or worse yet to keep from crying. She must have presented a pretty miserable picture, for suddenly Will was switching plates with her. She blinked down at the roast beef sandwich, then looked up at Will who had already begun to eat the cheeseburger.

Again that intent focus, Will patient as he waited for Belle to start eating the sandwich. She'd bite at her lip and hesitate, but the smell of the meat so different from that of the cheeseburger WAS triggering her appetite. Belle cut into the sandwich, then took a careful bite of that smaller piece, Will again flashing that odd smile of his.

“I think..” Will said, after he had finished wolfing down the burger. “I think it’s about time you start making new favorites and the memories to go with them.”

Belle ate at a much slower pace, using her mouthful as an excuse to think over what he had just suggested. She couldn't think of much reason against it, Belle knowing that sooner or later she would have to move on with her life. She couldn't stay mired in the past, couldn't just stay stagnant mourning a man who had never truly existed. But her heart also wasn't ready, Belle at last protesting.

“He’s only been gone for about a week!”

“Right.” Will nodded. “And from what I understand, he’s NEVER coming back. So there’s no need to waste time on regrets and memories of what should have been.”

“It’s not that simple.” Belle huffed. “I let him hurt me a great deal. That kind of pain doesn't just go away over night.”

“No, it doesn't.” He agreed. “Not without help...”

“Help...” Belle muttered. “And I suppose you're offering?”

“Don't see why I can't.” For him, that flashing of teeth practically passed for a grin. “Call it my civic duty.”

“Your civic duty?” She couldn't help gaping at him.

“The sheriff never specified how I was to help you.” Another flash of teeth. “And besides, I can't abide leaving a damsel in distress.”

She was still staring with that slack jawed kind of astonishment. That patient focus, that intent stare, Will maintaining eye contact as he started in on the french fries that were his burger’s side dish. 

“You're….” Belle hesitated, and Will arched an eyebrow at her as though in challenge. “Really weird….”

“Well I did come here from Wonderland. Besides...” His voice dropped down to a whisper, Will leaning over the table towards her. She almost leaned forward herself, but at the last possible second resisted, Belle just watching as Will muttered in a conspiratorial tone. “You know you're still hoping to hear more from me about that mad realm.”

“Well I am a naturally very curious person...” She couldn't help eyeing him with interest. 

“And I am a well traveled bloke.” He leaned back in his seat. “Wonderland, Oz, and of course the Enchanted Forest. Been a bit of just about everywhere you see.”

“Really?” She couldn't help sighing with envy. “I wish I could say the same!”

“Well we may not be able to go there NOW, but I can give you the next best thing. A full accounting of the wonders of those realms.” He bit into another french fry, still holding her gaze with his own. “So, sounds like a plan?”

She didn't even hesitate, Belle quickly nodding her head yes. His teeth flashed in response, Will reaching for another handful of fries. “Right, so now that’s that settled, how about I pick you up tomorrow evening for another dinner at Granny’s?”

Belle didn't see the harm in it, the woman nodding her head yes, but slowly. There was just something about Will Scarlet that put her at ease, that helped make Belle forget her worries and her bad memories for longer than a few seconds. Will just had this odd energy about him, a kind of magic that she so desperately needed, Belle liking how relaxed he was able to make her feel. He was in fact a God send, the friend and the distraction that Belle had been looking for. 

She wasn't looking for more than that, wasn't dare dreaming of a relationship beyond friendship. Her wounds were too fresh, her regrets too many, Belle not yet ready to move on. Maybe she'd never be ready for that, maybe a heart once broken was destined to never heal. There was a whole lot of maybes, and not enough definitive answers, but a part of her hoped to be proven wrong. 

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, this is an example of a chapter spiraling out of my control. There wasn't supposed to be a dinner “date” between Will and Belle, and certainly not this early. Heck, the whole chapter was not supposed to be a Will Belle one sided flirt fest. I was trying to get to the next day, and get some Hook presence back in the story….but this chapter...just went off on it’s own, and I don't really regret any of it!
> 
> I also wasn't expecting to have it written this soon. Long story short...okay not enough sleep, and I was gonna look over the revamping of restraint to kill some time. But first I went and reread ten of THIS fic, and I tweaked it a little, mostly the opening paragraphs were touched up to flow a bit better. But while rereading it, I ended up not hating on the chapter after all, and that got me all excited to work on eleven, and so this was the result.
> 
> It’s almost 3:15 am and I still have to spell check and proofread. X_X I am thinking next chapter will probably be a narrative from Killian.
> 
> Oh, so this chapter is only my second time ever trying to write Will. I'm nervous about it. I could never be certain in the show if it took place before or after the wonderland series. I am leaning towards BEFORE it, and so am writing Will that he doesn't have his heart. However, as you may have picked up here, he is starting to feel again in Belle’s presence, and he LIKES it. XD
> 
> The sad part is I have a lot of this story mapped out, but I have yet to figure out what the deal is about that. I've got the bare bones theory of an idea where Hook and Belle is concerned, but not sure I am gonna use it, or if I will use it for both Will and Hook. I am jokingly refereeing to this as the “There’s something about Belle” plot line. :P (Cue obligatory something about Mary movie reference! XD )
> 
> Okay, I should shut up now! I should probably get some sleep too, but gosh darn it I am hungry. X_X
> 
> Laters!
> 
> \---Michelle


	12. Twelve

The streets of Storybrooke were crowded with the early morning rush, cars packed in practically on top of one another, as traffic moved at a crawl. He could see the reflection of one such car drawing near, and once the sight of such a thing and it’s approach, would have made Hook fight against his own fear. That Hook was nothing but a memory of a lifetime ago, the pirate long used to the sights and sounds of this modern world. Familiar though the world had grown to be, the pirate was still uncertain on just how much of it he actually liked. 

He certainly didn't like the cars, the vessels that Emma and everyone else in this world seemed to favor. He could admire the convenience of them, but not the loud, angry horns, the claustrophobic feel that their insides gave him, or the headache and coughing fits that were cause by the thick, choking smoke that the vehicles emitted. Time savers they may have been, but if push came to shove, Hook would always prefer his ship over Emma’s car. 

Not that he had that luxury any more, but the pirate didn't want to dwell on what had been lost. Especially since it had been his choice to make, his decision to trade his ship away for her. But it didn't stop him from missing the Roger, from wishing that there had been some other way. Especially when he was inside Emma’s car, uncomfortably restrained by a belt whose purpose he still didn't quite see the point of. How was this thing, this seat belt, to keep him safe, to stop him from being hurt should the unthinkable happen and Emma lost control of the car? He didn't know, and thus the pirate had no faith in it, or in the air bags young Henry had once taken the time to explain to him in great but boring detail.

“Stop fidgeting with it.” It was more an order than anything, Hook giving Emma a glare as he purposefully pulled at the seat belt with an exaggerated motion. “Killian...” 

“Both hands on the wheel!” He snapped, when she moved her right hand as though to touch him. Her fingers then white knuckled on the car’s wheel, the woman giving the road her own fierce glare. She opened and closed her mouth several times, as though Emma was too angry to form the words to properly speak.

“Look...” She finally sighed. “I know that you're angry...”

“Oh you know?!” He mocked, and resumed glaring out the side window.

“And I know that you are feeling...embarrassed over what has happened...” She continued. 

“Embarrassed doesn't begin to cover it...” muttered Hook. If he hadn't felt so angry, the pirate was sure that he would have been close to blushing, the man absolutely mortified over what had happened. Over what had been borne witness to.

“But I only acted out of concern for you. I was worried about you, about all the sleeping and the effects your heart might be having on your body….”

“Swan...” He tried for a calm, level tone. “I appreciate your worry. I can even understand it up to a point. But you need to trust me, AND trust Regina, when we say this is normal.”

“But...” A glance her way showed that Emma was biting uncertainly at her lip.

“I am a survivor.” Hook reminded her. “If there is any one thing that I am good at...” He paused, a memory doing a slow, sensual waltz through his thoughts. One that had brown hair, and blue eyes, who brought with it the remembered sensation of the fit and feel of that sinful body grinding a top his. He closed his eyes, fought to keep himself from being lost to the memory. From reacting to it, to her. 

“You're good for more than that.” Emma said in a tone that might have been flirtatious if she hadn't been feeling so uncertain in the moment. He was no better, Hook unable to take the opening Emma had offered him, unable to joke or make lewd insinuations and promises, the pirate instead fighting against the memory of a whole other woman.

It was that memory that was the problem. It and a dozen others like it, each one more vivid than the last, each one holding a powerful sway over him. Over his feelings and over his body, even over his very mind. He dreamed about her constantly, was haunted by the memory, the recollection of how she had looked, how she had felt, and of how she had sounded like, purring encouragement into his ear. Wild and vibrant, she had been the embodiment of sex unrestrained, a physical manifestation of his desires made real. Everything and anything that Hook could have ever wanted and more, the lust that she had inspired once tasted wasn't easily forgotten. 

The lust alone was a potent force to be reckoned with, a mistake that wouldn't—couldn't be forgiven. But there were WORST ones yet, worst sins to live with, an untold secret that could never be whispered out loud. The feelings that he didn't dare think too much about, didn't dare put a name to, Hook unable to understand how it could have happened, let alone why.

For one unforgettable night, for just a handful of hours, he hadn't just fucked Belle, he had LOVED her. He had loved and come alive with the feelings that had been denied him, Hook full of a warmth that had reached through to him despite the hollow ache that had been his empty chest. Just being around Belle had awakened it, had filled that emptiness with a passionate need. He hadn't been able to get enough of it, hadn't been able to try. 

Haunted by it, by all that he had done, by all the feelings that Hook had let himself feel, the pirate’s biggest regret was that he wasn't very sorry at all. That blatant lack of remorse, that absence of guilt, of shame, that is what truly bothered him. It was too much like the cold, unfeeling captain that Hook was trying to put behind him, too much like the womanizer he had once been before Milah. Back then, he had gone from woman to woman, without a care or worry in the world, breaking hearts left and right. Just like he would Emma’s if she were to ever find out, if she were ever to glean even a part of that night’s truths. He'd lose then for sure, both Emma and the happy ending that he was grasping for. 

It seemed to drift out of reach with every passing day, the chasm between it and him only widening with this morning’s folly. He wasn't a man prone to blushing, but just remembering what had happened, what Emma and the doctor had borne witness to, had sent an embarrassed heat racing through him. 

“Look, I am sorry.” Emma was saying. “I really am. But no one was expecting—no one could have predicted THAT to have happened.”

“Indeed.” Hook grumbled more to himself than to her. The man still hadn't turned back to Emma, still hadn't lost the glare that he was maintaining. He channeled all his embarrassment into fueling the anger of his look, the side view mirror showing a positively murderous look reflected in his blue eyed stare.

“You could have told me.” She admonished in a gentle, chiding tone. “I wouldn't have freaked out...” He had turned then to fix her with a disbelieving look, Emma speaking in an insistent tone. “I wouldn't have. It’s NATURAL for a guy to wake up in that state.”

“Oh natural is it?” Hook challenged her. “To wake up moaning, under observation with you AND that doctor watching as I come all over the hospital’s sheets?” 

She had the grace to blush at that much at least. “Regina did warn me that you might be having vivid dreams...I guess I just didn't appreciate until this morning HOW vivid...”

“Hmph.” He was back to staring out the window.

“Well, at least Whale gave you a clean bill of health.” Emma had tried for a bright tone. “So there’s that...”

“Already knew and already had told you that I wasn't sick.” grumbled Hook in retort.

“Killian!” Emma had finally snapped. “I won't ever apologize for worrying about you.” Her hand had found it’s way to his knee, the woman giving him a light squeeze. Hook found himself counting to ten, then releasing his anger on a sigh.

“When you put it that way….”

“If you're through with being tall, dark and moody, then I accept the apology you haven't yet spoken.” Emma flashed him a smile that bordered on a smirk. “And don't worry, your little...episode will be our secret.”

“And what did you have to do to gain the silence of that doctor and his staff?”

Now she really did smirk. “Madame Mayor isn't the only one that can push her weight around town.”

“Oh?” Hook arched a brow at her. “Care to elaborate?”

“Maybe some other time.” Emma said in a lighter tone of voice. “But for now you have work to do.” With those words, she eased the vehicle into the tiny bit of space left between two parked cars. A larger vessel would not have fit, the space a tight fit that Emma Swan somehow maneuvered into with an expertise and precision that Hook could admire. 

“You'd make one hell of a sea captain, Swan.”

She laughed at that, a light airy amusement expressed. “I'll keep that in mind should I ever get fired from being the town’s sheriff.” A flick of her fingers, and the seat belt was undone, Emma shifting closer to him, so that their lips could brush together. “Now, have a good time researching with Belle.”

“A good time is not the words I would be using when it comes to researching anything.” Hook told her, watching as Emma didn't try to fight how funny she had found this to be.

“I think I'd be more worried if you did show an enthusiasm for it.” 

“Didn't take you for the type to get jealous of another woman.” He said, and his tone was more hoarse than anything in reply to that admittance of hers.

“I'm still human, and there are a million individual reasons for any one person to feel jealousy.’ Emma told him, and her smile took on a more serious tone. Her hand cupped his face as she sank fingers into his hair with the other. “And Belle IS beautiful.”

“She’s the Dark One’s wife...” He started to remind her, but she was shushing him with a kiss.

“I know.” Emma said in a reassuring tone, that broke into a laugh. “And I know the feelings aren't there. It’s me you were dreaming about, it’s the idea of my body beneath yours, that’s got you waking up so excited...”

“Swan...” He groaned, letting her think the disquiet in his voice had to do with what she was reminding him of. Of the incident that had happen that morning, and not the guilt that he was feeling. 

“I miss this...” Emma confessed. “Miss feeling the real you.” She was still stroking fingers through his hair, her green eyes alight with warmth. “I don't know how I didn't notice it while it was happening...”

“It’s not your fault.” He quickly reassured her, and his guilt increased ten fold. “The crocodile...”

“He had your heart...but I should have realized something was off with you. Instead I let myself be so caught up in the Snow Queen...in Ingrid’s schemes, that I let that distract me from the problem right in front of me. I won't ever make that mistake again.”

“You won't have to worry about that.” Hook told her. “The crocodile is gone, and I plan to keep my heart firmly in my chest where it belongs.”

“Hmm, you better.” She kissed him again, and the guilt already lit alive inside him, blazed out of control, Hook roughly seizing hold of her hair, to ground his lips against Emma’s. She let out a sound, a purr of excitement, Emma kissing back just as harsh, just as fierce. She bit down on his lip, licked at it with her tongue, and once this would have been more than enough for him. But the memory that existed in his head, the carnal knowledge that he had of an altogether different woman drove him, Hook absolutely desperate as he kissed Emma.

“Easy there, pirate.” Emma said with a throaty laugh, pushing him back. “Or else you really will be late...”

The frustration that he felt, that Hook let Emma see, had little to do with the woman stopping him. And everything to do with the fantasy alight in his head, Hook tortured by it, by the memory of Belle. Of what had happened, of the sex and of the feelings, of a three hundred year drought ended, his celibacy broken on the sweetest of sighs. He hadn't just cheated on Emma, Hook at the time had reveled in it, drunk off Belle’s body, riding high off the feelings, off tasting a woman after so long. 

That one night had brought him alive, had reminded him of everything he had long been denying himself. He had rediscovered the pleasures of the flesh, and his sins were made worst for it, Hook having done it with someone who hadn't been Emma. He almost laughed then, sick with the bitter irony of it. He had waited too long, had let Emma and his heart dictate the pace of their relationship. For the want of making their first time special, Hook had held back, and now his once starved body had fixated on another. On the wrong woman! With Belle alive in his head, with her passion pumping through him, Hook couldn't claim to feel even half as strongly as he had once had for Emma. It nearly killed him to admit this, to acknowledge that the feelings had changed, muddled by what he had done with Belle.

Eaten up alive by it, and by the guilt, Hook sunk himself deeper into his lies and omissions. Torn ragged by conflicting wants and desires, by the push and pull of his feelings versus his need, Hook felt caught between them. By the life and the happy ending he had always desired, Emma the physical embodiment of all that. He didn't want to lose it, didn't want to lose her, Hook fighting to keep a tenuous hold on the future that he had once envisioned when gazing into Emma’s emerald colored gaze.

A sky blue one yet stalked him, actively worked to remind him of that passionate night. He nearly moaned with the frustration of it, of the fact that the pirate knew it could never again happen. There was no future in her gaze, no promise of a happy ending, Hook certain that despite what they had done together, or perhaps because of it, Belle would NEVER willingly be his. 

With that thought breathing certainty through him, Hook clung to a decision he hadn't been conscious of making, or of even contemplating. He clung to Emma, chose her not because there had ever been any real choice, but because Belle was so clearly not an option at all. 

“Now go.” Emma said with a laugh. The pirate stared at the woman he had settled for, drank in the sight of her unsuspecting joy, She had not a clue towards the truth that was inside him, or of the turmoil that rolled through his body, a guilt and a kind of misery filling him. Hook looked at Emma and knew he would forever be trying to atone, the lies and the betrayal casting their dark shadow over their present and their future.

With one last lingering touch of her cheek, with a shadow haunted gaze boring into hers, Hook forced a smile. “I will see you tonight, Swan.”

She nodded happily enough, Emma clearly looking forward to it. He wondered if she would settle for another dinner at Granny’s, or if she would invite him over for something a little more intimate. Such as that Netflix thing that she kept alluding too.

Not that he was expecting things to turn sexual any time soon. Emma was set on taking things slow, and there was three very good reasons why a night of Netflix at Emma’s home would not be conducive to any real romantic happenings. There was no denying it, the family that Emma lived with, those three put a damper on things. Especially that David, the man giving a go at being the most overbearing and over protective of fathers. Hook couldn't fault David for that, but understanding the man’s worry didn't lessen the pirate’s annoyance.

“Tonight!” Emma called out after him in confirmation. She was already easing the car back out into the slow moving traffic, ignoring the sound of irate horns around her. Hook gave an acknowledging nod of his head, watching as she was swallowed up into the crowd. The bright yellow color of her vessel stood out in stark contrast among a sea of dark blues, blacks, and the occasional red. 

That bold bit of color held his attention, right up until it turned a corner. And then he was sighing, feeling so run down and tired, his exhausted, tortured state hardly the best frame of mind for the research at hand. His mind was less than ready for a lot of things, for the feelings that bubbled up to his heart’s surface, to the memories that tormented him, to the reality that was Belle before him. Hook didn't feel ready, didn't feel as though he could handle being this close to her. Most of all, he didn't feel much like pretending, of playing at ignoring the unspoken questions, the tension, that they both generated. Maybe he'd never be ready. Maybe he'd forever be tormented by the intimate knowledge of her that the pirate now had.

So many maybes, so many reasons why he'd never be truly ready. Hook couldn't let it deter him, couldn't let his own muddled feelings keep him from helping the fairies, from righting the many wrongs of the last few weeks. But most of all, there was no reason that the pirate could give Emma, no way to explain to her why he had done an about face when it came to freeing the fairies. 

With no real way around it, Hook found himself inside the library. It looked a little different from yesterday with the many stacks of books laid out on the front most table. Some kind of signboard was situated in the middle of the floor, though nothing was yet written on it. The distinct lack of people made Hook wonder if the library was yet again closed, and he didn't know how to feel about that. Less confused was the feelings surrounding Belle’s absence, Hook feeling a kind of relief to not yet be faced with the woman who had taken to haunting his thoughts. 

She danced her way through them, Hook growling lowly in his throat, as he stepped towards a table. He was intent on using the open books that lay across it’s surface’s top as a distraction, the man ready to lose himself to the research, to the task of translating the archaic runes of a long dead language. He wasn't the only one, Hook spying an open note book, a neat precise scrawl showing the rough beginnings of the beauty’s attempts to translate a page’s text. 

Eyeing the attempts at a translation, Hook picked up a pen, and began scratching out a word here and there. The gist of it was there, but some of the intent was lost, his corrections drastically changing the meaning of the spell and the history around it’s creation. It made for a fascinating read, the excerpt from a book Hook wasn't overly familiar with. Certainly the pirate didn't think he had ever heard this version of events surrounding this particular spell. It left him wondering what was the truth, and what had been the lie, Hook so engrossed in reading that he nearly missed the sound of the woman’s approach.

She brought with her not just the sound of her heels clicking a soft rhythm on the library’s floor, but the smell of a freshly brewed cup of coffee. “Killian….” Belle said in a soft, lilting tone. “I wasn't expecting you this early...”

“Thought it would be best to get started with a fresh mind.” Hook murmured, making another mark on the paper. He had since passed the few paragraphs that Belle had begun to translate, and was now adding to it new ones. “You've got a basic grasp of the language but these words here completely alter the meaning of what the original author was trying to convey.”

“Oh?” He heard the clink of something being stepped down, and then Belle was standing right besides him, peering down at the paper. He fought not to stiffen in reaction, to not moan in frustration, his nostrils flaring as Hook took in the sweet vanilla and apple scent of the beauty’s shampoo.

“It’s all right. It’s a common enough mistake for those new to a dead language.” He risked a glance her way, saw how she was biting at her bottom lip, and took note of the faint dusting of pink color on her cheeks. She didn't immediately try to speak, instead studying the changes that he had made, Belle looking for all the world like she was committing to memory the knowledge.

“Yes...yes.” She murmured. “I see what you mean. This word here...and here..” A point of her finger, Belle touching the words with her nails. “It completely changes things, and makes the spell much more powerful than I had first realized.”

“Right. Though I doubt we are going to find the answers we seek in a spell meant to contain something.”

“We might.” Belle argued, still staring down at the paper. “I mean, it stands to reason if you want to trap something, you might also want to know how to set it free so you can get at it.”

“Fair enough.” conceded Hook. “Although somehow I doubt a spell as simple as this will hold the key to freeing the fairies and any others trapped in the hat.”

“It probably won't.” Belle agreed with a sigh. “But I had to start somewhere...” She looked up at him now, and the realization seemed to hit her just how close they were standing together. With the color increasing in potency on her face, Belle took a quick step back. And with her went Belle’s warmth, and the sweet smell of her hair, Hook breathing a little easier the more distance the beauty put between them.

It didn't stop him from staring at her, from doing a slow once over. She was dressed in the palest of blues, with a white checkered pattern on a very short skirt. He couldn't keep his gaze from lingering on the long length of her legs, the skin there so creamy looking and smooth. Hook found himself digging his nails into his palm, the man overcome with an urge to reach out and touch her.

Belle had her own response to the way that he was eyeing her, the woman stiffening her body, her back going ram rod straight as she lifted her chin up. There was a defiant look in her eyes, an unspoken challenge to the way that she held herself, Belle giving off the vibe that in no uncertain terms was she about to change how she dressed just because of him. 

He couldn't help smiling, Hook respecting that in the moment. He liked that Belle wasn't letting what had happen affect her choices, that that she wasn't going to let it dictate a change to her own personal style. But he also just liked LOOKING at her, Hook grinning even more wider in response to the challenge and fire in her eyes. 

“We're wasting time.” She muttered in a fierce tone.

“Can't deny that much.” Hook agreed. He carefully tapped his hook atop the nearest stack of books. “And from the looks of it, we have a lot of ground to cover...”

“Try tens of thousands of pages worth.” Belle told him with a sigh. 

“All the more reason to get to it then.” He took a seat at the table, and after a moment’s pause she did the same. They were left situated across from one another, Belle reaching for a book. Hook looked down at the notepad, at the containment spell she had started to work on in the hopes of disassembling it. It was a good idea, but one to explore at some later time, Hook instead choosing to go through the book, in hopes of creating an index of all the spells and magic inside it. It would make for hunting down and researching the individual enchantments a bit easier, the index a guiding force towards directing them towards specific incantations.

There wasn't much sound to be heard, save for the scritch scratch of his pen, and the sound of paper rustling. Belle seemed engrossed in her reading, and Hook himself was quickly filling up the pages with his attempts at creating an index. He wasn't anywhere close to finishing, wasn't anywhere near to making a dent in the tens of thousands of pages Belle had alluded to. Instead he felt the reality hit him, the oppressive weight of the realization that this was something that wouldn't be solved any time soon, that it might take months, even years to accomplish.

Belle must have been reaching a similar conclusion, for she suddenly pushed aside the book and sighed. “It’s hopeless isn't it…?”

“What is?” He asked in a careful, guarded tone.

“We could spend the rest of our entire lives trying to unravel the mystery of the Sorcerer and his hat, and still come away with nothing for our efforts.” She had brought out the hatbox, touched it now with her fingers. “We don't even know for sure that they are ALIVE inside it.”

“We don't know that they're not.” He argued. “That’s reason enough for me to TRY.”

“But what if trying is not good enough for what needs to be done?”

“Never took you as the type to give up.” He had slowly looked up at her, pinning her in place with his stare. “Still don't.”She seemed to color in response, Belle shaking her head no. “Love, what’s the reason, the REAL reason, for this sudden lack of optimism?” 

“I...I just don't...” She seemed to think better of it, again shaking her head no. 

“Look….” He didn't lack sympathy, fixing her with a kind look. “I know this is awkward. Especially given all that has happened. But we can't let the past hold us back, can't let one night’s mistake stop us from setting things right.”

“Is it really just that easy for you?” Belle asked. She had locked eyes with him, the light blue of her gaze lit with a studious, searching light. He felt caught by her stare, by the beauty of that gaze, but more than that, Hook felt touched by the seriousness of her question, the man giving careful consideration to his words.

“No.” He finally breathed out. “No, it is not.” Hook thought he felt warm, his heart skipping a flustered beat. He stared at her with his skin feeling too tight, nerve endings prickling with a restless unease. “But then...that should come as NO surprise.”

Those blue eyes stared, Belle slowly nodding her head in agreement. “No it doesn't.” She finally admitted. “Not when you hunted after Rumplestiltskin for so long.”

“Aye.” His tone was hoarse. “I'm not a man to let go of things easily, least of all the past.”

“But you did try.” Belle quickly reminded him. “I mean...you did drop your revenge seeking against him.”

“I wouldn't say I dropped it, so much as I temporarily set it aside.” He saw how that made Belle frown, the woman thinking carefully on what he was saying.

“Does that mean if the opportunity would have arisen, you would have made a move to go after it?”

“I very well might have.” The pirate admitted. “You don't easily put aside three hundred years of hate. Especially when you have as valid a reason as mine.”

She seemed to shiver then. “Just what went on between you two?” Hook arched an eyebrow in silent question at her. “I don't mean just with Milah. I mean in the days leading to Rumplestiltskin nearly crushing your heart.”

“Ah that’s right, I did sort of promise to tell you of his misdeeds.” Hook let out a sound, an embarrassed kind of chuckle. “But the truth doesn't paint me in much better light.”

“What do you mean?” Belle asked, with a slight side tilt to her head. 

“I did some things I am in no way proud of...” He admitted with a sigh. A sigh she was quick to take up, Belle letting out her own breath before protesting.

“You were under his control.”

“I wasn't always.” The pirate watched for her reaction as he said this, Belle blinking confused at him. He almost smiled, though the expression would have lacked any real humor to it. “I hurt that old man, helped your husband to do what I thought at the time was a murderous magic.”

Her color seemed to leech out of her, Belle staring at him in shock. “Why?” She asked. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Why does anyone take a deal of your husband’s?” He countered with the question. “Aye, I was desperate, though it was a desperation borne of my own fault.”

“I..I don't understand...” Belle said in a hesitant tone of voice. “What did you do…?”

“It’s more a case of what didn't I do. I knew that dagger he had given you was a fake from the second I had laid eyes on it. I knew and kept quiet.”

“Why?” She whispered. “Why would you…?”

“For the power that it gave me.” Hook explained. “I enjoyed having a way to make your husband squirm.” He couldn't full keep from smirking, his eyes dark with the pleasure he had taken over such torment. “I was drunk off it, off the power, off having the Dark One at my beck and command.” He flashed his teeth with a self depreciating growl. “I was a fool, playing with fire….”

“What happened exactly?” She asked in a plaintive tone. “Killian, tell me...”

“Wish I could say everything I had done was innocent enough. But the fact of the matter is I wasn't content with just using him to help against the Snow Queen. I saw the possibilities in front of me, and I was made greedy from it.” He then stretched out his arm to her, Belle’s eyes briefly alighting on his hook. “See this?” The pirate asked. “This was the first step to my downfall...”

“Your hook?” It was a confused voice in which she spoke the question with.

“My hand.” He corrected her. “Or rather, the distinct lack of it.” He pulled back his arm, to hold the hook up to the light, studying it with a gaze that was somewhere between admiration and contempt. “I never thought of myself as half a man, never found myself less because of the loss of it. But then I never had a reason to.” 

“Then what changed? Emma?” She took a guess, than quickly shook her head no. “I'm sure she wouldn't have thought that of you...”

“Would that I had been half as certain as you.” He was still staring at his hook. “But I wasn't, and so I went to your husband to ask him to make me whole again so that I would be able to hold Swan with both of my hands.”

“I don't think she would have minded the hook.” Belle immediately colored a crimson shade of red upon realizing what she had just said. He could have chosen to tease her, to torment her mercilessly about the beauty’s own eager response to the feel of his hook on her skin, but all Hook truly managed was a hoarse sound.

“Aye.” He looked at her, and fought not to let the gratitude darken his eyes, that passionate night with Belle proving to him just how much a woman could enjoy the pirate’s hook. Belle had no way of knowing, no way of guessing that she had been the first, and thus far the only, to get to experience that part of him. And he wasn't about to reveal it either, Hook knowing such a knowledge would only make the tension between them worse not better.

“Still, it wasn't just vanity that was my undoing. Oh it helped it along, but the crocodile did what he does best. With doubts and uncertainty as his seeds, he planted the suggestion in my mind, manipulated me into thinking that hand was possessed.”

“Possessed?”

“By the man that I used to be, the pirate who I was at the time the Dark One chopped off my hand. It took less than one evening for me to believe it too….What a bloody fool I was! Buying into what he had peddled...”

“You shouldn't be so hard on yourself for that.” soothed Belle. “You're not the first to be manipulated by him, and you certainly weren't the last...”

“But I was the one who forgot the most valuable of lessons, that the crocodile always LIES.” Hook grumbled. “I let him manipulate me into thinking the hand was responsible for my behavior, and when I was desperate to rid myself of it, he dropped the hammer on me. Not only did I have my hand back, I couldn't be rid of it by any means save for HIS magic.”

“Ah….” A look of understanding had dawned in Belle’s eyes. “I am beginning to get an idea of what happened.”

He nodded glumly. “Desperate to be rid of it, I agreed to help him with a job. And there in lies the fate of the apprentice….But it didn't end there.”

“It never does...” She said it faintly.

“He gave me my hand back, along with his own twist at blackmail. All my leverage was gone, while his was just arriving, Rumplestiltskin setting me up nicely to be his own unwilling partner in crime. And that was long before he took my heart.”

“It must have been….must have been pure torture...”

“It was.” Hook agreed. “Both before and after he took my heart. The guilt and anger I had felt at doing his foul deeds, it was nothing compared to the reality of existing without a heart.”

“What….what was that like?” She asked. “The not having your heart…?”

“It was….empty, my life devoid of all meaning. I couldn't feel, not the good not the bad. At best, I could only vaguely remember how the me with emotion would have reacted in a moment. I couldn't even HATE your husband for what he was doing, to me, to Emma, to the town. I was full of nothing, just acting on fleeting memories, on hunches of how the real me would have responded. When ever I smiled, whenever I expressed frustration, it was nothing but an act, an empty hearted attempt at pretending to be the man I had once been. With those lies, with that attempt at pretending, I tried to do something besides just exist. I tried to remember what it was like to actually feel, to LIVE instead of just as existing.”

“Drowning in that endless desert of nothing, is it any surprise I went after the first chance that I had, to finally FEEL?” He asked her, holding Belle’s gaze with his own. She looked a bit frightened, like some animal caught in the headlights of Emma’s car.

“No.” The beauty whispered, and did a nervous clearing of her throat. “Not when you put it that way. But that still doesn't explain WHY.”

He shrugged then. “I've not the faintest of clues as to why it would happen around you. God knows I kissed Emma enough times, both before and after that night…..”

“That doesn't make me feel better to know.” complained Belle, which earned her a grin from the pirate. “It doesn't.” She insisted with a glare. “It just leaves me with more questions than answers...”

“Aye, I've more than a few of those myself. But I am also content to accept we probably aren't going to find out anything more..So we might as well focus on something we have some slim chance of solving.” Hook was already reaching for the pen, intent on resuming his attempts at translations.

Belle didn't immediately move to follow his example, the woman just staring at him for a long moment. He tried to ignore the weight of her gaze, but ultimately ended up sighing. “Problem?”

“Just wondering what some of YOUR questions are….” The pen paused, Hook slowly looking up to meet Belle’s gaze. “I mean you said you had a few…..”

“Well there has been something I have been wondering about...” He flashed her a slow, downright lecherous smile, the pirate intent on making her regret the asking. “Just how does a sheltered princess know how to do that particular trick with her….?”

“Never mind!” Belle quickly stood up with a shout, drowning out his words. He was already laughing, his chuckles chasing her across the library. It wasn't until the door slammed shut behind her, that he stopped, Hook sagging in his seat with a groan. 

 

To Be Continued…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this chapter became the one that did not want to end, and the worst part is I didn't get it to the scene I wanted to end on! I struggled with the first 3000 words for like three days. I almost trashed all that too. I kept worrying I am not doing a good job of explaining Hook’s private feelings. Right now he’s not in love with Belle, but that night he was, so full of feelings for some mysterious reason. He and she are both struggling with the fact it wasn't just sex, but had enough tender emotion for it to be considered a love making. But I feel like I am incapable of explaining it right...*slumps*
> 
> I don't know if it is THIS fic, or just this chapter, but I feel like I hit some kind of burn out. I am debating trying to update something else, to try and see if working on a different fic will keep me from getting writer’s blocked for everything. But then again, I might feel better about this story come tomorrow. All I know is this, 6000 something word chapter was pure hell to write. And I am mad at myself for not getting to the scene that I wanted, and I feel like I just gave up where I ended on that last sentence.
> 
> I probably had more stuff to ramble about, but at this point I can’t think of anything. I almost made this another Belle POV….just cause it was proving hard to start it from Hook’s. But I am glad I got another Hook narrative in!
> 
> Next chapter will probably be a Belle POV….
> 
> \-----Michelle

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first I am still working on trade off chapter twenty eight. Or trying to. I dunno, I am having bad insomnia, and started thinking about two of my ideas I've yet to write out. (One of them involves Ruby!) They started distracting me hard core from working on twenty eight...not that I was trying too hard, considering how crappy I feel from lack of good sleep.
> 
> This is another multi chapter ongoing story, this time taking place in season four. It….did not write out the way I had thought it would. Not exactly. Still putting dub con and non con warnings. This chapter takes place during Ingrid’s Shattered Sight Curse. I'm torn on if I should explain and spoil how Hook got in this situation, or wait to write it out in chapter two. But suffice it to say, just like in the cannon, Hook was unaffected by the curse.
> 
> It’s almost twenty to three as I write this, and I still feel so wired. Insomnia SUCKS. I shouldn't try to write anything when I am in the midst of it...and yet I was bored and feeling creative at the same time. But I am not sure this reads as any good. Would love some feedback on it! Thanks!
> 
> \----Michelle


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